


Larelleis

by vinterskald



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Adventure, Asexual Character, Canon Temporary Character Death, Multi, Non-binary protagonist, Slow Burn, basically some canon stuff with a bunch of self-indulgent non-canon stuff in between, going to add more tags eventually, it's not only romance but there's a buncha romantic stuff in here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16707844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinterskald/pseuds/vinterskald
Summary: Losing one's soul certainly is a rough business. Getting it back is even more difficult, especially with the world in shambles. But it's much less difficult once you have found people who stay at your side, and maybe there's even love to be found here - that sort of ill-fated love that only makes you fight even harder for it.





	1. Shornhelm Divided

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for coming here!! I decided to share some of the adventures of my Vestige and turned it into my NaNoWriMo novel for 2018. At the point of posting this, I'm already beyond 50k words, and I will upload the chapters over time.
> 
> Please note that it's been a very, very long time since I've read and wrote fanfiction, so do let me know if anything's very off or if you have suggestions for tags etc. At any rate, I hope you will enjoy this!
> 
> This work will contain spoilers to the main questline and alliance questlines of ESO, and at some point also some of the DLCs.

The stars had been bright that night. So bright, in fact, that Manerion had barely been able to sleep - or maybe he only believed the brightness of the stars to be the cause of his sleeplessness, when in fact he tried to ignore that his exhaustion was probably the actual reason. But now, as he looked outside to see the stars fade in the dim morning light, tiny glowing specks on the greyish sky, it almost didn‘t seem so bad: the day was still ahead of him, which meant many possibilities for experiencing beautiful things, and he could start the day with a cup of mint tea.

He wasn‘t so sure why he had agreed to go northwards now that the summer was ending. The days in Auridon had seemed endless while he was recovering from all the troubles he had gone through in the months before. Defending Queen Ayrenn herself against the threat of the Veiled Heritance, for instance, which seemed spectacular enough back then but would only be the beginning of a massive pile of work. He had restored the Orrery of Elden Root, an event he still dreamed about in many nights, helped to pave the way to the restoration of the Silvenar of Valenwood, and finally assisted the new Mane through walking the Two Moons Path. It had been so much, too much even, and Manerion had been happy when all seemed safe in the Aldmeri Dominion. Especially so since that hadn‘t been his only problem - no, he had had his dealings with the Mad God and his machinations as well, and although he was glad to have helped the Mages Guild, it didn‘t get him one step closer to retrieving his soul.

His soul... he had started to forget about this tiny detail already. What brought him into this dire situation to begin with was the fact that one day, his soul had been taken from him. He still understood little about the matter, but as it stood, the so-called „Worm King“ - a title Manerion despised with a passion - had killed him, a simple alchemist and tea vendor from Shimmerene. His spirit and body and been left largely intact, if one were to ignore the trauma and the broken ribs, and so, he had been able to escape from Coldharbour and return to Nirn as a Soulless One.

He wasn‘t the only one, which was both a great shock and a great relief for him, and occasionally there were more to be saved from Molag Bal‘s realm. But he had been among the first to escape from this terrible prison, which put him into a special position: he had been to Coldharbour many times before, and by now, he had some experience in freeing people from Bal‘s cold clutches. Mannimarco, the one who had killed him and whose cult had supported Bal in his attempts to fuse Nirn and Coldharbour, had been defeated and imprisoned by his master himself. Manerion had thought that this would bring some peace into his life, but he was very wrong. Mannimarco‘s cult still tried to appease Molag Bal‘s hunger for souls by killing innocents, and the world was still so very far from being safe from the Planemeld. Aiding the Aldmeri Dominion was only the first step to restoring the peace. Manerion knew of others who had lost their souls, and who were doing their best to help their alliance in the same ways. But Ayrenn had asked Manerion of a favour that should have been reserved for a member of the Daggerfall Covenant: he was to go to Rivenspire, in the far north of High Rock, and investigate the situation there.

So instead of spending the last days of summer in Auridon, or watching as the leaves of the graht-oaks would slowly turn red and yellow, he had taken a ship northwards. The grey, stormy tides of the Abecean Sea were beautiful in a way, but no compare to the sunrays dancing on the Eltheric Ocean at the Alinor docks. Manerion had wished for nothing more than to return to Summerset Isle, to see what had become of his little shop, of the people he cared about, but every attempt to return to it had been futile. One time they told him that for safety reasons, no outsiders were allowed there, completely ignoring the fact that Manerion had been born and raised there, another time they had asked him to pay an egregious fee solely for the documents needed to traverse to the island. Manerion had half planned to get his hands on a boat and just travel there from Auridon himself, but during his long journey from Vulkhel Guard to Daggerfall he had remembered why that would‘ve been a bad idea - he felt so sick that he could barely eat while on ship, and when he did, he regretted it soon afterwards.

But that was far away already now that he looked outside to the stars on this cold morning in Crosswych, a town in northern Glenumbra that had only very recently been freed from a bandit threat. He was to travel to Shornhelm, but when he had asked if anyone could bring him there by carriage on the evening before, no one had agreed to help him. Manerion already feared for the worst, but tried to stay positive. He washed his face, made sure that his short beard looked carefully groomed, and combed his silvery hair before pulling back the strands that usually got into his face and pinning them into place at the back of his head. He had to smile quite suddenly - it was one of those things that others tended to ridicule the Altmer for, but Manerion felt it to be necessary to look acceptable wherever he went, regardless of his age or his intentions.

He left Crosswych Inn after a nice, warm cup of tea. The sun had risen by then, and the coldness of the night vanished quickly in its light. With the sun warming him even when the north wind blew down from the crags, he managed to cross the border to Stormhaven quickly, and then leave this part of the Covenant for Rivenspire already. By noon, he had arrived at what looked like a large gate - Oldgate, if he read the map correctly. A few soldiers of the Covenant had made camp here, and one of them noticed Manerion approaching the gate immediately.

"You there! Over here!" he said, waving him over. "A mage, are you?" he asked once Manerion had gotten close enough to him, looking at the Mages Guild robes he was wearing. Manerion just nodded silently. "Alright," the soldier continued, "what business do you have in Rivenspire?"

"I was asked to come to this place and assist the Covenant," he replied simply.

The soldier stared at him in confusion. "Why an elf? Who gave you this command?"

"Queen Ayrenn Arana Aldmeri," Manerion responded. He made a pause, waiting for more questions, but the soldier seemed to expect more information. "Look, I realise you have many capable people on your own. I have no idea why it was agreed for me to come here, but they told me they might need my experience here."

The soldier rubbed his chin for a moment, then just shrugged. "Darien?" he called, "d‘you have a moment? I think this one‘s for you."

"Sure thing!" someone called from one of the tents, and a black-haired man - probably Breton, judging by his name - rushed outside to Manerion and the Covenant soldier.

"This... person here, he says he‘s been sent by Queen Ayrenn to help out in Rivenspire. Do you know anything about that?" the soldier asked, and the man called Darien nodded.

"I‘ve heard that the Dominion had sent someone here. They‘d been looking for someone with a certain skill set, someone who could help us with the Montclair business. That‘s probably him." He turned to Manerion with a friendlier smile than he had seen since departing from Auridon. "Welcome to Rivenspire. Trust you‘ve never been to this beautiful part of the Covenant before?"

"Uh, no. In fact I haven‘t." Manerion tried to respond with a smile, but the situation seemed quite too tense for him. He rubbed his hands nervously.

"Great! That means you‘ll enjoy the razor-sharp rocks and the awful weather for the very first time. Always exciting. Especially now that a bunch of bloodfiends decided to take over Shornhelm, so really, we need all the help we can get."

"Bloodfiends?" Manerion asked. "I had been told it was a political issue. Not that I understand much of politics, that is."

"Ah, me neither. But it is a political issue, in fact - just one that you can kill with fire quite easily, it seems." His smile got even broader. "You see, the region is divided. The houses Tamrith, Dorell, and Montclair all strive for the power to rule over this part of the Covenant. I don‘t quite get why - there‘s nicer places, aren‘t there? - but it‘s gotten a little out of hand when House Montclair sent bloodfiends to take over Shornhelm for him. But that is classified information, you know. Officially, there are normal soldiers in the upper side of the town." Darien winked. "But Countess Tamrith should be able to tell you more about that. From what I know, she should be in the chapel of the city. Maybe head there and tell them I sent you to help out, right?"

"Seems like a good idea," Manerion said, but truthfully he began to feel dizzy at the thought of having to fight vampires, probably so hungry for blood that they were barely even sentient anymore, but still maintaining their heightened senses. He sighed and tried to ignore his worries. "I’ll be off then. Thank you for your help."

The soldier and Darien nodded as Manerion walked off, but he had only made a few steps before Darien had caught up to him again. He turned around, almost worried that Darien would tell him he’d had walked into the wrong direction.

"You’re one of those... you know." Darien seemed uncertain whether to speak it out loud.

Manerion raised his eyebrows, suddenly feeling very uneasy in his skin. "One of those...? Yes?"

"You lost your soul, right?"

"Ah, that." Manerion laughed in relief. That one was an old hat by now. "Yeah, right. How did you know?"

"No worries, it’s not noticeable. I’d just been told before that they’d send one of you guys."

"Have you had met other Soulless Ones before, Darien?" Manerion asked.

Darien nodded. "A few. Glenumbra and Stormhaven wouldn’t be safe without them. They’re off to Alik’r now, you know, and I have the feeling I should be there to help."

"Let’s just hope the business in Rivenspire will be done with quickly then," Manerion said.

"Sure, sure," Darien smiled and awkwardly patted Manerion’s arm. "Try to stay safe out there, will you? I heard weird rumours about this Ravenwatch fellow."

"Ravenwatch?" Manerion asked, but Darien just waved it off.

"You’ll meet him soon enough. I’d tell you not to die, but I’ve noticed with the others that dying isn’t such a big problem for you guys, right?" He just laughed and returned to the tents, leaving Manerion alone and confused. Clouds were drawing in, so he hurried off to Shornhelm.

The town looked quite impressive from Oldgate. Manerion had really begun to love the half-timbered houses in this part of Tamriel, and from the way it looked, Shornhelm was composed primarily of them. If there was nothing to look forward to, there was at least going to be nice architecture. Luckily for him, they let him enter the city without any further questions, so he hurried off to the building that looked like it might be the chapel.

The cloudy skies had given a bit of a foretaste to the dimly lit chapel. Manerion found it quite beautiful: the large stained glass windows, the smell of incense in the air, the candles that still didn’t manage to make the place any brighter. It was so very different from the chapels on the Summerset Isles, or the places of worship the Bosmer used, but it was beautiful in its own way.

Only moments after stepping into the chapel, he already stopped walking again. In the coloured light of the sparse sun rays that shone through the stained glass windows, mingled with that of the candles, stood three people, all of them seeming very regal and deep in conversation with another. One of them was most probably Countess Tamrith, Manerion concluded. She was a small Breton lady - but weren’t all Bretons somewhat small? - whose straw-coloured hair framed her face in a way that made her look very stern and strong-willed. The next was another Breton, a man whose face seemed to reflect a sort of permanent annoyance by anything and everything. And there was an Altmer, clad in dark robes, who had seemed to be the only one noticing Manerion’s arrival, but who yet didn’t turn around. Their conversation continued, and Manerion decided to stay as far out of hearing range as was possible in a building where even a mouse’s squeak would echo into every corner.

"Of course we cannot let them take the city! But what you propose is outrageous!" he heard the Countess say, then the other Breton replied something about the Countess’s inability to see the vast importance of something, and soon their angry words mingled enough for Manerion to truly not understand anything anymore.

"I realise this is a difficult decision for both of you," the Altmer spoke suddenly, his voice very calm and collected in comparison to that of the others, "but you should know that we have a guest."

The two Bretons stopped quite suddenly, looking around the chapel in great embarrassment and finally finding Manerion standing in the shadows. Not wanting to seem like an unwanted intruder, he quickly walked over to them, his blood rushing to his head quite suddenly due to his unexpected detection.

"I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt," Manerion said, his voice quite too rushed and too quiet, but the Altmer gave him a reaffirming look.

"You didn’t interrupt us, I’m certain this discussion was nearing its end anyways," he said with a kind smile, his eyes strikingly warm. But as friendly as this person looked, something seemed off about him.

"Yes, you’re quite right, Count Ravenwatch," the Countess said. She turned to Manerion. "So why are you here at this time of turbulence?"

"A man named Darien had directed me to coming here, my lady," Manerion said, bowing his head. He quickly realised he had no idea of the customs in High Rock - did you bow to counts? Kneel? "I had heard of your troubles in the city."

"Gautier? Ah. At least he’s been useful out there," the Breton nobleman said. Judging by the way he had talked to the Countess, his rank was probably the same as hers.

"Darien Gautier was right in sending you here. The light truly has a way of finding one even in the darkest of times," the Countess said with the pathos of a fervently religious person in her voice. "We had just sent someone off to deal with a few of our own people who had decided to switch sides, which was what allowed Baron Montclair to take the upper city so quickly to begin with. But we still need someone to investigate their next steps." Quite suddenly, she seemed to realise something. "Do you even know what these troubles are about?"

"I know that House Montclair apparently has been warring for power over Shornhelm, with... I suppose, you? And another house, House Dorell -"

"That would mean me," the Breton man said, rolling his eyes. "Of course Gautier would mention Countess Tamrith, but not me. It’s Baron Alard Dorell, if you don’t mind."

"Oh, excuse me, your well-born!" Well-born! Manerion wanted to cut off his tongue that instant - that was a direct translation from Old Bretic, probably not whatever they said today. He cringed when he noticed the quiet chuckle of Count Ravenwatch, who had seemed to understand the source of his confusion. "B-Baron," Manerion corrected himself immediately, trying to continue the sentence quickly enough that Baron Dorell would have no more time to stare at him with raised eyebrows. "I hear that your three houses have struggled for power over Rivenspire for a while now, but House Montclair took it one step too far."

"Exactly. He chose to send an army of the most unholy of fiends - vampires - into our very city," Countess Tamrith explained. "We must weaken them before they may continue their way through the streets and threaten the citizens. So far, they have only managed to get a hold on the upper city. Only the Divines know how long we can hold them off - but we must try. We sent a capable warrior to deal with the defectors already. However, we know nothing about how this army of the night plans to continue, and most importantly, who is leading them at present. We would welcome it if you could lend us a help with that."

Manerion nodded. "Consider it done," he said with much more certainty than he presently had. "Where shall I begin?"

"Head to the barracks. If you’re lucky, the defector Orlozag gra-Yarzol has already been killed. If not, that’s a job for you," Baron Dorell said simply, "See what you can find there and in the rest of the upper city. Letters, documents, what have you. Report back to me once you have gathered information, and try not to get yourself killed."

"I shall do my best," Manerion said and turned around to leave the chapel.

He loved those sorts of tasks - not only would a more stealthy person have been much more suited for this task, but just as well, no one had bothered to tell him where those barracks were, so he had to ask around. He found the entrance to the upper city quickly, secured by city guards and soldiers who explained the way to the barracks to him.

The upper city was already quite empty. It was obvious to him that the warrior they had sent in before had been quite meticulous in his work. Manerion still didn’t want to risk anything, hence he sneaked across the city’s streets on to the barracks, opening the heavy wooden door and taking a look around. It wasn’t long until he almost stumbled over the corpse of an orc warrior - probably the defector Dorell had mentioned. No survivors seemed to be found in this building, so Manerion concentrated on finding documents of importance. He found a few bookshelves, but little save for a few old tales was found in here. Hence he went onwards and found the prison cells, making his way through the empty prison, and was suddenly startled by the sight of a living - not undead! - Orsimer standing in one of the cells.

"So who might you be?" Manerion asked with a frown.

"Skordo’s the name. You’re not one of those... those..."

"I’m not one of those, no," Manerion smiled. "And you aren’t either, right?"

"Dear gods, no! Do you think I’d hang around with those folks? Weirds me out enough to just see them creeping through the city. Not that I’ve been able to since a while, after all I’m kind of imprisoned here," Skordo explained.

"Why have you been imprisoned, then?" Manerion asked him.

"They probably found me nice enough to keep me around." Even with the hoarse voice that so many orcs had, Skordo wasn’t able to hide his fear. "Probably kept me here for when they get hungry, who knows. I’m one of the city guards. But you’ll free me, will you? Think they kept their key in the chest over there."

Manerion turned around to see the chest Skordo had spoken about. He knelt down to open it, and there, between stacks of paper, was a small discarded silver key. They had probably not thought they’d need it anymore. As Manerion took it out, he flipped through the pages of paper in the chest. There was one, a letter, that caught his interest. It was addressed to a certain ‘General Reezal-Jul’, and spoke of a portal in the ‘Fevered Mews’ to bring in more bloodfiends. That sounded like bad news, but it was signed off with the name of the deceased defector. Manerion stored it in his bag and turned to Skordo again, unlocking his cell.

"I’m here to search for some more things. Do you think you’ll be able to help me with that?" Manerion asked as Skordo stepped out of the cell and did a few stretches.

"I can try. Might not be of much use because I think they got my left arm when they threw me in here. But I’ve still got my sword arm," Skordo replied and unsheathed his broadsword.

"Wondrous. When this is over, we can return to the other part of the city, and you can rest a little," Manerion explained.

"Then let’s get this over with," Skordo said and ran off already.

Manerion followed as quickly as possible as they got out of the barracks. Skordo came to a halt very suddenly, gesturing Manerion to stay where he was. A few scattered bloodfiends stood outside of the barracks, and Skordo seemed to think of a strategy to take them out.

"Where do you need to go next?" he asked Manerion.

Manerion shrugged. "Where do you think information for this little rebellion of sorts would be kept?"

"Montclair Manor, no doubt," Skordo said with a reaffirming nod. "It’s to the left. Just a few of those monsters in the way."

He ran off, his sword drawn, right into a group of three bloodfiends who immediately began attacking him. Manerion supported him from further away, casting a shield around the two of them and healing Skordo when necessary. One of the bloodfiends began to charge towards him, but a few well-placed shots from his flame staff made them collapse before they had been able to reach him. Darien had been right - their resistance to fire truly seemed non-existent. As the last of the bloodfiends had been brought down, Skordo ran off to the next building to their right, a decently sized city manor.

"Montclair Manor," he just said and proceeded to kick the door in as if it was nothing. "Let’s get this bastard if he still is in here!"

A few more vampires - less feral than the ones they had seen outside - had noticed their arrival immediately and cast their spells on the two of them, which Manerion countered with a shield of pure magicka. He engulfed them with circles of flames, Skordo decapitating one of them with a single strike as the other perished slowly in the fire. Manerion cast healing spells on both of them, just to be certain.

Hurriedly, Manerion began looking through drawers and bookshelves, finally finding a scrawled note on a dresser on the upper floor. It was addressed to Baron Montclair, explaining that the portal would soon be opened and more and more citizens had been ‘turned’ in the meantime.

"Do you think this is the goal of them?" he asked Skordo, but then realised that he hadn’t even let Skordo read the letter. "It says here that a certain Reezal-Jul plans on turning more and more people into vampires. Do you think that’s their goal?"

Skordo just shrugged. "Don’t know, don’t care. If it somehow brings him more power, sure, why not?"

Manerion nodded and put the note into his bag. "That should be everything I need. Montclair himself doesn’t seem to be around here, he probably got into safety before the guard could attack."

"Foul bastard. Doesn’t have the courage to face us!" Skordo shook his head angrily. "Let’s leave, then."

So far, it seemed that the portal the letters spoke of hadn’t been opened yet - at least no more vampires were to be seen in the city. They hurried back to the chapel, where Baron Dorell and Countess Tamrith were waiting for them.

"My lady, your... baronship," Manerion said in a rushed voice, "I luckily got the help of one of the city’s guards." He gestured to Skordo, who was trying to look determined rather than flustered. "We found these documents here. They explain how a certain Reezal-Jul is trying to open a portal in, uh..." he took out the two letters again and looked through them, "...the Fevered Mews? Apparently he’s trying to let more and more undead enter the city by way of this portal."

"More of them! Arkay’s might. So Montclair is out of the city and his pet Argonian took over?" Baron Dorell asked.

"We’ve found no trace of Montclair," Manerion said with a nod.

"Then you should head to the Fevered Mews," Countess Tamrith suggested.

"Excuse me, my lady, but I know nothing of that place. I’ve only arrived in Shornhelm today."

"Oh, I see," the Countess nodded. "You see, when the Thrassian Plague had come to Shornhelm in the First Era, many of the upper class citizens hid in the Fevered Mews to stay away from the disease. It’s built on an even older ruin, and to think Reezal-Jul would use this cave system to enable more of the undead to enter the city..." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Do you have any more information? How to get in, for example? Every little detail would help me close the portal before it gets to the point where Shornhelm is more dead than alive," Manerion asked, lowering his voice and stepping closer to the Countess.

"Well..." The Countess seemed to think for a while. "The sewers... the sewers! From what I know, you should be able to enter the Mews through the sewers. It’s certainly not the most enjoyable way, but you should reach it quickly and easily this way."

"Thank you so much," Manerion said with an honest smile, then turned around to leave.

"Another thing, if you allow," Baron Dorell said. "I’ve received news of three nobles having been taken hostage. I’d bet they are in the Fevered Mews as well. Do your best to free them, and we will make sure the upper city is retaken in the meantime."

"I’ll get right to it," Manerion said simply.

Skordo had sat on one of the chapel benches. "I’ll stay here, if that’s alright."

"Of course. I wouldn’t have had expected your help to begin with, and I’m thankful for what you have done so far," Manerion just said with a smile and then rushed outside.

The sewers. Vampires weren’t enough, apparently, but he had to go to the _sewers_ of all places. He just wanted to get this done as quickly as possible, removing the first sewer grate he found and climbing down into the stench. The air was thick here, and Manerion was suddenly very happy he had barely ate anything today. He realised he had no idea where to go now, but luckily there just seemed to be one way that most probably lead out of the city. Manerion followed it, covering his nose with his sleeve, and found that the sewers lead to an abandoned cistern. As soon as he couldn’t stand the smell anymore, he got out, regardless of whether this was the right way to go or not.

Once outside, he happily took a deep breath. The sun was already low, but the clouds had dissipated by now. He looked around and found a wooden gate in close proximity to where he had gotten out of the sewers. Maybe this was where he was supposed to go? It couldn’t hurt to try, he hoped, and opened the gate.

"Hold on just a moment!" he heard someone say quite suddenly as he peered into the darkness behind the gate.

He almost expected to be attacked now, but when he turned around, he saw that the person approaching him was none other than Count Ravenwatch, who he had met earlier at the chapel. He felt very strange quite suddenly.

"Oh! I didn’t notice you before. Is there anything else that needs to be done?" Manerion asked.

"Not quite, unless you count ‘not dying,’ but I hope that order has been given to you already," the Count said with a smile. "I’ve decided it might be worthwhile to help you, in case you do need to face Reezal-Jul."

"Is that so? Well, I’m happy with any and all help I can get," Manerion replied. "Before we go in there, though, would you mind telling me what I can expect in there? It seems you have had your dealings with Reezal-Jul before."

"Sure. You see, Reezal-Jul has most possibly lost most of his sanity due to his fanatical devotion to Wylon Montclair. He has dabbled in necromancy, but his knowledge is very limited - a fact that makes him even more dangerous. He would do anything in exchange for Montclair’s appreciation, even if that means dealing with highly powerful and highly dangerous artefacts that he does not fully understand. And it seems like that is where you come in."

Manerion had nodded the whole time, but then his interested expression turned into a frown at the last sentence. "Me? What do you mean?"

"Well, let us just say I’ve heard... interesting things about you. You had been asked to come to Rivenspire for a reason, and thus far I hadn’t understood _why_. Surely your special status as one whose soul has been taken away was just an added bonus, was it not? But you are also a scholar of the Mages Guild, one who had spent years upon years studying theoretical writings, and who is now applying this knowledge - somewhat reluctantly, no? - now that the Planemeld and the Alliance War pose a threat on Tamriel that not even a mage from a city of Summerset can ignore. And on top of this, you seem fond of languages - I trust you have a decent knowledge of Ayleidoon?"

Manerion opened his mouth, but then was quite too shocked to speak. How had he found out all these things? "Ae," he replied in Ayleidoon, answering the Count’s last question.

The Count seemed quite satisfied with the shocked look on Manerion’s face. "Then I understand why you have been brought here. I trust you will help a great amount with uncovering this mystery that robs even me of my sleep."

"But how do you know all these things?" Manerion managed to ask finally.

"Oh, not to worry - that is already all I know. I prefer to ask people about themselves, unless of course I fear there might be a threat. In your case, of course, I needed to rule out the possibility that you were a, well, let’s call it ‘recent acquisition’ of Montclair, or if maybe the Dominion planned to strike Rivenspire where it’s most vulnerable right now. But I have not been disappointed. Although fate might’ve led me to stand on a different side than her, I still believe Queen Ayrenn to be a capable leader, and, most importantly, one who truly cares about the well-being of Tamriel’s people. So I’m quite glad that she decided to send you to us," Count Ravenwatch explained.

Manerion shook his head with a smile. "That was certainly not what I would’ve expected. But you haven’t quite answered my question, have you, Count?"

"Verandis, please. Since I know about the whereabouts of your soul, you might as well call me by my first name, shouldn’t you?" He returned the smile. "And as for the ‘how’ - I am neither interested enough in politics nor senselessly wealthy enough to afford spies, if that was what you were wondering about. For the moment, I hope it will suffice if I tell you that I care for a few little birds who sometimes return to me with valuable information."

"Birds?" Manerion had to chuckle. "Ravens?" Looking at the Altmer with his dark hair and his elegant demeanour - surely the result of having descended from an old high elven line of nobility - the thought of him tending to flocks of ravens solely for its peculiarity amused him.

Verandis tried not to laugh, but failed eventually. "Now that one was just bad," he said, but he must’ve noticed Manerion’s sudden uneasiness upon seeing him laugh - something truly was off there, but what was it? - and headed towards the Fevered Mews. "It might be wise to get this done quickly, before Shornhelm is overrun by undead," he said.

Manerion nodded and followed him into the darkness.


	2. Thrown into Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aka "I know how to write fight scenes, I swear!!"
> 
> (The research Manerion is referring to is from [this book here](https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Wayshrines_of_Tamriel).)

The Fevered Mews looked very different from what Manerion had imagined. After they had gotten through a small, dark cave, they reached a large open space, looking as if it had been left mostly untouched since the First Era. It was surrounded by the sandstone crags that seemed to make up most of Rivenspire’s landscape, and the ground was covered by lichen and mosses. Only very few shrubs and trees grew here, and even these seemed to have had their life drained.

"Countess Tamrith had mentioned that this place was built on an even older ruin. Are traces of it still visible?" Manerion asked, barely noticing that he had slipped into the same tone of voice he used when exploring a ruin with the Mages Guild. It only seemed natural, given that Verandis seemed to be a scholar of sorts as well.

"Not quite. Most of whatever was here before - a settlement, I’d wager - was used to build Shornhelm and later the Fevered Mews. What remained of the ruin has since been weathered by the ages to such a degree that it is barely recognisable anymore. But we shall get to that place, at least if my assumptions are correct and Reezal-Jul uses it to open his portal. It seems likely... all of that mourning and praising of the past that comes with immortality; people suddenly feel as if they could not be insulted more than by staying in places that have been built _after_ the First Era," Verandis said with a sneer.

"Sounds like an expert speaking," Manerion said with a smile as they walked on, then lowered his voice as they spotted the first pair of feral vampires. "You’ve dealt with vampires before?"

"Oh, uh..." Verandis replied quietly, "then and again, yes. Shall we just... dispose of them quickly? They seem to have lost every last bit of their senses already."

Manerion nodded, cast a shield around the two of them and then began to charge forward, close enough to be able to cloak the enemies in flames quickly. He noticed there to be much more fire than he could have produced on his own, realising then that Verandis wielded a flame staff as well. The bloodfiends were immediately startled, running towards them in senseless anger. Almost simultaneously, Verandis and Manerion hit the ground with their staves, vines of flames growing rapidly across the ground and damaging the bloodfiends with every step they took. Twirling his staff in his fingers, Manerion ran off to another side, causing the approaching bloodfiends to scatter: most of them attacked Verandis, who barely seemed fazed by the action, whereas Manerion cast another wave of healing for the two of them. He robbed the vampires of whatever life force they had left, and another pulsar of flames caused the last of the attackers to be reduced to ashes.

Manerion tried not to seem short of breath, hence he turned around and surveyed the rest of the place, leaning onto his staff. He noticed some cages further up the hill, and supposed that would be where the nobles had been taken. Feeling quite dizzy from the heat of the flames and the bit of fighting, Manerion just shook his head as if to shake off the exhaustion and ran over to the cages. The vampiric guards - much less feral than those they had just fought - gave him some trouble, especially since he tried to dispose of them without having to incinerate them in case one of them had a key on them. But with Verandis at his back they still proved to be no match for them, and Manerion got away with only a few scratches, none of them deep enough that he couldn’t have healed them himself.

"Hurry up, please!" he heard one of the nobles call from within her cell that was nothing but a re-purposed animal cage. "Please free us, I don’t want to stay in here for another second!"

Manerion would’ve been shocked at the sight if he hadn’t expected it already, but the nobles had been badly beaten, their expensive garments torn and dirty, and the lady who had called out to him had swollen eyes, wet from tears.

He searched for the key to the cells, and finally found it dangling on a leather cord on the neck of one of the vampire guards. He carefully opened the knot to untie it from the dead fiend’s neck, hoping they would stay dead this time. With the key in his possession, he rushed to open the cells one by one, and three people stumbled outside, thanking him under their breath.

"The way outside should be safe right now, but please hurry to the chapel and see a priest before you go anywhere else," Manerion instructed them with a kind, but firm voice. "The undead have attacked you quite harshly after all, haven’t they?"

The lady just nodded, then she and the other two limped away. Manerion still looked at them as they approached the exit.

"Do you think I should’ve helped them back to the city?" he asked. The instructions had been clear, but for a second his worries began to take overhand.

"No, you need not worry. They’ll most likely be fine, and Reezal-Jul is our top priority right now," Verandis explained, but then saw the surge of hopelessness in Manerion’s eyes. "No, no, trust me. We’ve cleared the way outside already, and the city guard is taking back the upper town at this very moment. They’ll return without difficulty. Unless of course we let more undead enter the city through the portal."

Manerion didn’t say anything for a second, looking first at Verandis and then at the three injured people in the distance. He nodded in agreement. "Alright. Lead the way."

Verandis nodded and went on towards the stone walls that surrounded the place. He reached what looked as if it had been a stone gate a long time ago, but was now reduced to a barely noticeable fissure in the rock.

"This is the entrance to the leftover ruin Countess Tamrith had mentioned to you," Verandis explained, "As you will see, not much remains of whatever it was before, but the cave alone provides sufficient protection for someone who’d plan an attack on the city." He walked towards the rock, which retreated to the sides on his touch and opened a doorway to a dim cave.

Manerion followed him inside: truly, almost nothing was visible of what had been here before. He could see roots from large trees that probably grew on top of the hill in which this cave had formed. Some brick walls had been preserved, and Manerion tried to imagine the layout of the building that had stood here before.

"Might it have been a large hall? Or at the very least, maybe, a large building that collapsed over time..." he mused while he and Verandis walked on quietly through the cave. "There was probably a long time between the abandonment of this place and the construction of the Fevered Mews."

"Quite right. We can assume that the Fevered Mews were a rushed effort. The plague approached quickly, and they had to make do with what was already available. By that time, a cave had formed here already... I’d suggest from a mixture of boulders originating from the crags, and earth, held together by roots... you see, there’s traces of a flood that must’ve occurred here sometime before or during the Middle Dawn," Verandis explained. It seemed to Manerion that he barely even tried to connect his thoughts in a comprehensive way, but Manerion understood the meaning completely. And Verandis’ thoughts seemed focussed on something else entirely: by now, they could hear hushed whispers and a strange tingling sound that grew louder the further they advanced in the cave.

"The portal must be close," Manerion whispered. The vast amount of magicka that had been utilised here could be sensed already.

Verandis nodded, his staff at the ready. He sneaked over to a corner of the cave where the path made a turn, peeking around it carefully, then looking back to Manerion and making gestures that seemed to say ‘they’re just behind this rock,’ or something of that sort.

With a nod, Manerion cast a shield around the two of them, and they rushed onwards, taking the bloodfiends by surprise. Through the wall of flames he and Verandis cast before them, he could see not only eight or ten bloodfiends that were approaching them now, but also a person that walked into a different direction: towards a circular portal that filled this part of the cave with a fiery light. Manerion had to think of Firsthold quite suddenly. A shiver ran down his spine, despite the heat of the flames that he cast at the attackers, but he felt a slight bit of relief upon noticing that this seemed unlike the portals to Oblivion. 

He made sparks rain down on his opponents, casting down the rage of the storms to surround his own body, and left Verandis’ side to charge to the man walking towards the portal. He was an Argonian - quite certainly the ‘General Reezal-Jul’ that had been mentioned in the letter - but he would not stop or turn around to fight. Instead, he walked onwards, eerily slowly, and stepped through the portal before Manerion’s blast of flames could reach him. Manerion looked on in shock; the enemy had been able to flee before his own eyes. For a moment, he was unsure whether to follow him, but then decided to turn around, albeit reluctantly. He could see by the look in his eyes that Verandis shared his sentiment: there was the urge to follow Reezal-Jul and dispose of him before he could inflict any more suffering on the people of Shornhelm, but they had to move carefully now. The rest of the reinforcements Reezal-Jul had sent to take over the city were dealt with quickly now, and when the last of them fell, Verandis ran over to the portal and closed it with the concentrated force of his magicka.

"At least the portal didn’t make any problems," Verandis said finally, the reddish light of the portal disappearing into a vortex and leaving the two of them in darkness. Even while his eyes were adapting to the change in brightness, Manerion could see that Verandis rubbed his forehead exhaustedly as he walked back into the direction they had come from.

"I know what you want to say - we should’ve followed him, and I’d almost agree," he said then, approaching a small candlelit table and running his fingers through the candle’s flame absent-mindedly. "But we need to tread carefully. Reezal-Jul might have lost his sanity, but he is growing ever more powerful. I don’t even know where he has got these hoards of victims from, all those people that have been turned into mindless servants to fight for him. Trust me, he didn’t earn those by charisma. As for the rest of the Montclairs though..."

"You’ve known them before, haven’t you?" Manerion asked, but Verandis didn’t respond and stayed very quiet.

"I would be happy if you could help me," Verandis said suddenly, not taking his eyes off the flame. He made such a long pause that Manerion almost wanted to ask for more information, but he decided to give Verandis time to sort his thoughts. He had looked uncertain suddenly, then began to speak again. "Yes, I’d be happy if you could help me. I think there’s a good reason that you were sent here. There’s some things I could need help with, Ayleid manuscripts and such... if you’d be willing to help, of course. It might... no, it _will_ turn into a dangerous matter, and I need you to be certain of that."

Manerion could notice the genuine concern in Verandis’ brown eyes - were they truly brown? The flicker of the candlelight made them glisten in a different hue. "Of course. I have been asked to help out here in Rivenspire, so that’s what I shall do. If that means assisting you in your studies - all the better."

"Good." Verandis walked away from the table again, searching for something he had stored away in the folds of his robe. "Here. Take this as a token of my thanks. I know that you must report back to Countess Tamrith - or even High King Emeric, if he has already arrived in the city - you must report to them without delay, but this matter cannot wait. I ask you to please come visit me after you have reported the closing of the portal. This token will bring you to where I live."

Manerion took what Verandis gave him: it looked a bit like a coin, or maybe more like a button made of metal, but lacking the holes one would need to sew it to fabric. An intricate knot was carved onto its surface on both sides. "How do I use it?" Manerion asked.

"To be fair, I don’t know if it works if the user lost their soul," Verandis answered with a bit of a nervous smile. "But I suppose it should work even better then. You just need to express your will to come to Ravenwatch Castle, and should arrive in close proximity to it."

Manerion raised his eyebrows in delight. "What a useful little thing. Sounds easier than travelling the stars."

"The stars?" Verandis said with a frown.

"The stars! Surely you know of Corvus Direnni’s research, don’t you? Based on that of The Transmigrant?" Manerion replied.

Verandis’ eyes got large at that. "Of course I do! I was under the impression that... oh! I see! Since your soul remains in Coldharbour, you can make use of the wayshrines for travel?"

"Exactly," Manerion said and nodded. 

Verandis seemed impressed. "Be sure to tell me everything about that when I see you later."

"I shall. I, uh... I will try not to let you wait too long. The sun is already going down." Manerion made a gesture to the ruin’s exit.

Verandis smiled in the strangest way. "Oh, not to worry. That won’t be a problem," he said, his eyes fixed on Manerion’s for what seemed like a second too long.

Manerion opened his mouth to say something, but he just nodded. "S-sure. I’ll look if I can find the High King then," he said when he finally found the words, rushing to turn around and leave the place, suddenly stopping again. "’Your Majesty’ will be alright, won’t it?"

Verandis began laughing. "It will be, don’t worry. But you’ll need to go to the other direction if you want to get out of here."

"Thank you, I - what?" Manerion looked around. He had been walking into the direction where the portal had been before. "Oh, of course. Thank you, Verandis."

He rushed out of the cave, his cheeks suddenly feeling very warm. He barely even noticed where he was going, but strangely enough, he found himself in front of what probably was the castle of the city once the fog in his mind had lifted. He thought that if anywhere, the High King would be found here. He dusted off his robe, cleared his throat, and went inside.

Countess Tamrith, Baron Dorell, and the High King were standing in the throne room of the ground floor. The High King was easily recognisable, wearing gilded purple garments and the crown of the Covenant. Manerion approached the three of them hastily, falling on one knee before the High King and bowing his head.

"Your Majesty, I bring news regarding the assault on the city," he said.

"Oh! This is one of the saviours of the city, I presume? In that case, there’s no need for you to kneel. I suppose you are the one sent by Queen Ayrenn?"

Manerion rose again. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Ah, then I am glad you arrived safely in Rivenspire. You see, it hadn’t been easy finding someone with your qualifications, but from the news I’ve heard thus far Ayrenn has made a good suggestion. What news do you bring? Has the portal been closed?" Emeric asked. He had a friendly, low voice, and it was immediately clear to Manerion that though this person led the alliance that was opposed to the Dominion, he was a wise king, and one whose people were of the greatest importance to him.

"It has been closed. It wasn’t solely my doing, however, Count Verandis Ravenwatch is to be credited for most of the work. I merely helped," Manerion said with a smile.

"Oh, Verandis was here? What a pity that I didn’t get to see him. You see, I’ve known him for many years. When I was younger, I was even sent to study with him for a time," Emeric said with a gentle smile. 

"Truly? What a lovely coincidence. I used to teach the children of noble families as well when I still lived on Summerset Isle. It’s always a great pleasure to see them grow up and fill in honourable positions," Manerion replied.

Emeric frowned for a moment, but then his expression returned to normal again. "Ah, I forgot. Age is but a number for many of you high elves, is it not? But regardless - the portal has been closed, and the city guard has succeeded in retaking the upper city. Shornhelm is safe again, which is exactly the news I had hoped to hear."

"For now, Your Majesty. I’m afraid the man who led the attack, Reezal-Jul, he... he escaped before we could harm him. We chose not to pursue him for now, and not make a rushed effort," Manerion explained.

"That... well. That is a problem. But the city has been freed of the threat, and I’m certain Verandis has ideas on where to strike next?" The High King ran his hand over his beard absent-mindedly.

Manerion nodded. "He asked me to help him with some of the material he has that might be useful for striking the Montclairs. He asked me to meet him later today so that we might look over it together."

"Wonderful. Uh, has he... has he told you?" Emeric asked with some concern in his voice.

"Told me?" Manerion tried to recall the things he and Verandis had discussed. "Told me what?"

"Oh, it’s just that... House Ravenwatch has a few strange, how shall I call it... traditions? But regardless of what happens when you meet him, don’t worry about his trustworthiness. I know that he tends to unsettle people, but I’ve not met many of his kind that I could put such confidence in. He can most definitely be trusted."

Manerion tried to simply smile and nod at this remark, but didn’t understand what in Oblivion Emeric meant by that. ‘Of his kind?’ Did he mean the Altmer? What a strange remark to make in front of an Altmer who had been born and raised on Summerset Isle! "I shall think of your words if I ever begin to doubt him, Your Majesty," he simply said. The High King returned a kind and thankful smile, and Manerion bowed down again before he left the castle.

Once back in the fresh air, Manerion realised how hungry he was. By now, the last sunrays were dying on the horizon, and Manerion truly didn’t want to disturb Verandis at night-time, so having dinner in an inn of the city was out of the question. Then again, it hadn’t been very bright here since he had arrived in Rivenspire, save for that quaint red light that shone from high above the mountains north of Shornhelm. So maybe it wasn’t quite so late yet, and the market stalls would still have some fresh vegetables in stock.

Manerion was in luck: the market here offered mostly regional food, but he was able to find a bunch of splendid tomatoes, some carrots, and a garlic bulb. He ate one of the tomatoes right away so that he wouldn’t have to face Verandis with a rumbling stomach, but he would suggest they could just cook something together - surely Verandis hadn’t had a meal either. For a moment, he was very uncertain - what if Verandis misunderstood this gesture? But he remembered all the times he had done such things with his friends on Summerset Isle, so surely Verandis wouldn’t mind either. At least he hoped so.

The food stored safely in his bag, he took out the small token Verandis had given to him and held the sparkling little thing against the light. What had Verandis said about it again? For using it, he just needed to have the _will_ to travel to his home, or something. It sounded quite too easy, but Manerion supposed that a link had been made between a place at Ravenwatch Castle and the token, and that it would detect the reminiscence of its place in the user’s animus, prompting it to return to the place it was linked to and simply dragging the user along. Or something along the lines. Manerion shrugged and decided to treat is as something of a child’s toy that the child doesn’t have to understand in order to be enchanted by it, so he held the token with both hands, closing his eyes and uttering a single wish in his mind - ‘to Ravenwatch Castle!’ - and with a strange tugging feeling his body seemed to be turned and twisted, floating in mid-ear, but by the time he opened his eyes again his feet had found firm ground already. It was very much unlike the feeling of dissolving and then re-assembling when he travelled by wayshrine, but here he was: right in front of a large wooden door that belonged to an even larger castle of stone.


	3. Dream-Walk Into Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took some liberties with the quest since I didn't want to bore y'all with another "walkthrough" of what happens there. As always, enjoy!
> 
> For a more elaborate take on the Sun's Dusk stew (albeit not vegetarian and containing alcohol, but that can easily be changed I'd guess), check out [this recipe](https://tastesoftamriel.tumblr.com/post/179670123722/hearty-suns-dusk-soup-suns-dusk-is-my)!

The castle was wider than it was tall, and seemed to have been built right into the crags of Rivenspire. Manerion looked around: no lights lit the way, and only the strange red light was visible from here. The castle stood on a hill and could be reached by stairs that... was that a corpse? Manerion stepped closer to the stairs to get a better look at it, but then stopped in his movement immediately. There truly was a pale corpse lying around on the stairs to the castle. 

Fear took hold of him quite suddenly. What if the castle had been attacked while Verandis had been in Shornhelm? He looked further down the hill, his senses suddenly sharp. He noticed the black silhouettes of what were probably houses, and the faintest sound of what might be desperate wails reached his ears. No attackers were visible, and he couldn’t hear any noises that could point to a fight, but Manerion still didn’t want to waste any more time and entered the castle before even bothering to knock.

"Gwendis, not so greedy! You don’t want to hurt him more than is necessary, and we have a visitor!" he could hear Verandis say before Manerion could even see him, since he had merely faced a wall after entering the castle.

A strange smell filled the place, and Manerion noticed that it was barely any warmer here than outside. The dust of centuries lay on the drawers, and the flickering candles proved that Manerion wasn’t merely imagining the terrible draught. He finally made his way around the corner of the wall, reaching the great hall of the castle that was apparently used as... some strange sort of banquet hall. Verandis stood there, looking at Manerion with a somewhat hopeful smile, while a Bosmer lady was sitting at the table, not in front of a plate, but in front of a Dunmer lying on the table. Manerion’s fear vanished immediately and he walked over to Verandis without even greeting him or the others.

"Xarxes’ beard, Verandis! You live like this?" Manerion said, waving at the whole place.

Verandis looked at him with a strange mixture of disappointment, anger, and confusion. "I invite you here and you - you don’t like it one bit?"

Manerion folded his arms with a frown. He could hear the Bosmer chuckling quietly. "The place would be nice if you could bother to clean up once in a century. But there’s corpses littering the steps that lead to this place! Corpses! I thought the Montclairs had decided to remove you from the picture before we even had the chance of defeating them! But here you are, feasting on... feasting on people? Do you do that every time you invite someone to your home?"

Verandis wanted to defend himself, but he merely stammered something as the Bosmer’s chuckle grew louder. The Dunmer, in the meantime, had sheepishly gotten up and left the room.

"We don’t often get visitors before they know of... you know, of... does _that_ not bother you?" Verandis gestured at his own face.

Manerion had noticed it, but not given it much thought - compared to how Verandis had looked in Shornhelm, he seemed very sickly suddenly, his skin pale and his irides bloodshot. There was little doubt that Verandis had not been among the living for a long time, and that the Dunmer had truly been his meal. "It bothers me, I guess, yes," he said, then rummaging around in his bag and holding up the fresh tomatoes he had just gotten. "I had wanted to ask you if I could cook something for us, but that will apparently not be necessary."

Verandis confused expression brightened into a smile. "You brought food because you thought both of us hadn’t had dinner already?" He laughed kindly as Manerion nodded in response. "I’m so sorry, I keep forgetting that - you’re probably very hungry, aren’t you? I guess you could just have dinner here, but what did you plan to make?"

"A Sun’s Dusk stew," Manerion replied with a bit of resignation at the prospect that he wouldn’t be able to share it with anyone. "It’s only Frostfall, but it gets cold at night here in Rivenspire and I thought maybe..." He sighed and unpacked the garlic bulb and the carrot as well. 

"Is that garlic?" Verandis asked, his eyes very large quite suddenly.

Manerion raised his eyebrows - he didn’t want anyone to question his food choices tonight, taking the garlic and holding it up to Verandis’ face. "What, are you allergic?"

"N-no," Verandis replied, taking a step back, "I mean, I’ve never met anyone of my kind who truly could be weakened by garlic, but you’ve surely heard the rumours, haven’t you?" He laughed nervously.

"Unsettled by a bit of garlic, tsk," Manerion just said, shaking his head and taking the bulb back, but then began to smile as well. "I get a stomach ache from it, but it’s very healthy, you know?" He turned around to the Bosmer finally. "I’m sorry I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Manerion, a... well, I used to be a tea vendor, selling alchemy ingredients and occasionally teaching languages and history to children in Shimmerene. Nowadays my life is mostly not so pleasant, but I’m still happy to meet you."

The Bosmer, whose hair had the same bright colour as her eyes and who was quite certainly a vampire as well, stood up from her chair with a jump and made an exaggerated deep bow. "I’m Gwendis. Verandis teaches me stuff, so I live here in his old dirty castle."

Verandis shook his head, yet still responded to Gwendis’ laugh with a smile.

"You do have a kitchen though, don’t you? Shall I cook for that Dunmer as well? He... he is alive still, right?" Manerion asked.

"Oh, Kallin is probably already on his way out. He’s not a permanent resident, you know? But I’m sure he’d be thankful for your offer," Verandis explained.

Manerion looked back at the vegetables. "But that would be too much for me alone..." He hadn’t thought to bring any empty containers for storing soup when he had left Auridon.

"Breakfast, then?" Verandis said with a shrug.

"Breakfast? But then... oh, you mean I can stay here?" Manerion felt quite flustered suddenly.

Verandis and Gwendis looked at each other, and Gwendis responded with a shrug.

"Sure," Verandis just responded. "You could stay in the master bedroom for all I care."

Manerion gave him a doubtful look. "But wouldn’t that be _your_ bedroom? I don’t mind sleeping on the ground if you have a spare blanket."

Verandis just shook his head with the hint of a smile, and Manerion realised quite suddenly that he probably didn’t sleep in a bed to begin with.

"Oh, right, you... I see. Well, if it’s not a problem for you, I’ll stay here then," Manerion said, avoiding Verandis’ and Gwendis’ eyes in embarrassment. "Would you show me the kitchen, then? Or is there anything else that needs to be done first?"

Shaking his head and still smiling, Verandis led him away from the banquet hall to the eastern wing of the castle. There were two flights of stairs here, one leading to the upper floor and the other leading to the basement. Right next to the stairs however, there was a door leading to a kitchen - it wasn’t even half as big as the banquet hall, but still spacious by Manerion’s standards. The hearth hadn’t been used in a long time, hence Manerion figured that the ‘blood donor’ of House Ravenwatch probably got his food from elsewhere, and living visitors only rarely came here.

"I know it’s dusty, and I apologise, it’s just..." Verandis let out a sigh. "With the current threat, there were many things I didn’t get around to do. My study is tidier, I promise, but after all that is where I had spent most of my time in the last months. But the pots and the cutlery are shelved away, so maybe..." He knelt to get a better look inside the kitchen shelves. After some rummaging, he got out a pot, inspected it closely, and seemed to deem it usable. "Here. Help yourself with whatever else you need. There’s a water basin here, and... yes, just look around for the other things. You know best what you need. I’ll be in my study if you need me."

Manerion took the pot that Verandis handed him, and just dropped the vegetables he had been holding onto the whole time inside, since the table was still unclean. "Thank you, and sorry for making you trouble. I wouldn’t have expected your situation to be like... you know. Like this," Manerion smiled.

"It’s no trouble, really. But I’m glad that you understand," Verandis replied, and with a friendly nod, he left Manerion alone in the kitchen.

 

It took a while to prepare everything he needed - he had to clean the table, find some firewood (the dust produced a great deal of sparks when he set fire to it), and find some knives, spoons, and a bowl - but once he got around to finally sit down at the table to peel and cut the vegetables, everything went well. The fireplace warmed him, and while the place certainly was dusty, it was orderly at least. Only when putting the chopped vegetables and some seasoning into the boiling water did he notice that Gwendis was standing by the door. He almost dropped the lid he was holding, but somehow still managed to cover the pot with it.

"Pleasure seeing you here," he finally stammered, trying to conceal his sudden fright with a laugh. "Didn’t hear you coming. Did you need anything?"

Gwendis looked at him in a strange way - it seemed to Manerion that she must’ve trained this weirdly secretive, sinister smile long before she had been turned into a vampire. Even with the eternal youth granted to her by her condition, she still looked a great deal younger than Verandis.

"No, I just enjoyed watching you chop those vegetables. You see, I didn’t bother much when it came to cooking even when I was still alive, and I would never have done it so neatly." Her laugh revealed her set of fangs. "You like it very much, don’t you? Cooking, I mean?"

"Oh, I do," Manerion responded with a joyful tilt of his head. Gwendis had made the mistake of mentioning one of the things he enjoyed doing a lot, so he hoped she was prepared for a long conversation about something she couldn’t care less about. "You know, it’s such a splendid feeling... you take these carefully selected ingredients, combining them in a certain way, seasoning them in a way that no other person can copy exactly... I always carry a bit of seasoning with me, and I wish I could let you guess what I chose once it’s finished." He laughed. "And then you can give it to someone you care about, who will notice the work you put into it, regardless of whether they enjoy the taste or not. And in the best case, they’re a slight bit happier after they finished eating. And maybe for a short moment the world was a happier place, you see?"

Gwendis raised her eyebrows. "You really like cooking, I get it. Almost makes me sad that I can’t have a bit of your soup as well... but only almost."

A bit disappointed at the response, Manerion pulled his sleeve over his hand and opened the lid of the pot, a cloud of steam blowing into his face. He stirred the soup for a while, smelling it, finally taking a spoon and tasting the soup, burning his tongue in the process. He smiled, partially at his own impatience. "Almost done, but not quite. But I got the seasoning right."

"You said you always keep seasoning in your bag. What else do you keep in there? It looks so small," Gwendis asked with great curiousity, slowly moving over to the chair on which Manerion had left his bag.

"Oh, you see, it looks small and is lightweight, but I’ve enchanted it so that I can carry much more than you would expect. I always keep seasonings, sewing utensils, bandages for when restoration magic fails, oh - a bit of incense from a beautiful blue flower that grows on Summerset Isle, I kept it in my garden and it’s one of the only things that I still have from Shimmerene... a book of course, and some paper and ink so that I can make notes whenever I need to... clothes, naturally, I wouldn’t want to run around in my robes all day... hey!" Manerion wasn’t even finished with his list when he turned around to see Gwendis had opened his bag, though she pulled her hand away quickly and tried to look quite innocent once she had been spotted. "No rummaging! If you want to see anything in particular, I can show you."

"Nah, I was just wondering how you’d enchant it?" she asked.

"Oh, that. It’s just a pocket dimension, you see - _pocket_ dimension! In the most literal sense, I mean. It’s a small, very small place that I keep inside a soul gem," he explained.

Gwendis looked severely unsettled. "I don’t understand as much about magic as Verandis does, you know? I don’t get it, and I don’t care, but... you used a soul gem to store... to what? To store a place inside instead of a soul?"

"You could call it the soul of the place if that helps... it’s nothing big, no worries, much smaller than this room we’re standing in. I’m certain any mage can do that with enough expertise," Manerion shrugged.

"I don’t think so?" Gwendis replied in disbelief. "I think this is big. You should tell Verandis about it!"

"Ah, no... no, no, I don’t think I should bother him with such trifle matters," Manerion said embarrassedly. "But I didn’t study with Shalidor and Vanus for nothing, you know. Shalidor did it on a much larger scale. Might as well use it for practical matters, you know?"

"Shalidor? The Arch-Mage? And by Vanus... you mean Vanus Galerion? Isn’t that the guy who founded the Mages Guild to begin with?"

Manerion nodded. "The Arch-Mage and the Arch-Magister Emeritus, yes. I helped them then and again, and sometimes we found the time to discuss their ideas. Of course I’m far away from their profound understanding of the art of magic, you see..."

Gwendis just shook her head and waved Manerion’s remark away before he could finish it. "Their deepest most profound knowledge of these noble whatsoevers of magic doesn’t matter to me. It’s just that you said you were a tea vendor, and a... what? Teacher for languages?"

"Yes, yes, I had a shop in Shimmerene," Manerion replied with great pride in his voice.

"A shop keeper with a passion for cooking who, as an unimportant side remark, just so happens to try to revolutionise the use of magic! And Verandis said he just invited you over because you know Ayleidoon, tsk..." Gwendis already walked towards the door, but then stopped mid-movement. "You’ll stay for a while, won’t you? Please say you’ll do. As much as I enjoy Verandis talking about... everything, it still bores me to death when he tries to explain concepts of magic to me that I don’t understand and don’t care about."

"Boring an undead person to death is quite the achievement. I see the problem," Manerion laughed. "I’ll stay for as long as Verandis permits me, otherwise I would’ve had to look for an inn to stay at anyways."

"Permits you to stay? You should worry about permitting you to _leave_. He barely even got over his excitement when he first told me about our mystery guest, but I think at this rate he’ll fall in love with you before you notice it."

"Fall in..." Manerion turned red quite suddenly. "No! I mean, no way would he... Gwendis, you... no, no, he surely won’t, I mean..."

Gwendis started to laugh again. "I was just joking! No need to get all flustered. I’ll leave you and your soup alone."

She left him in the kitchen, and Manerion simply stared at the floorboards for a long while. His thoughts were only disrupted when he noticed the soup boiling loudly, and only then did he turn around to stir what had become a neat and creamy orange soup instead of a bunch of vegetables boiling in water. The casual non-permanent enchantment on the spoon had really done its work.

He ate the soup when it was still much too hot, but he had been so hungry that he was barely bothered by the weird feeling in his stomach. The rosemary really worked well together with pepper and the small pinch of cinnamon he had added, better than he had expected. And once he felt quite full, there still was enough soup inside the pot to fill two more stomachs. He covered the pot with the lid and cleaned the dishes, suddenly realising how tired this day had made him. But it was still far from over, so Manerion just rubbed his eyes, drank a bit of water, and went to look for Verandis’ study.

He found it quickly, situated in the western wing of the castle. Verandis, who had changed into more comfortable clothing, looked up from his notes with an exhausted smile.

"Come, sit, please. There’s a lot I want to discuss with you," he said, pointing to the chair that stood opposite to his own. 

Manerion sat down, while Verandis still stood there, leaning over the desk with his hands next to whatever material he had just mused over. Manerion couldn’t read everything from upside down, but he noticed not only Ayleid writings, but also some composed in Falmeri or Dwemeri, with only a few in Tamrielic.

"I’d prefer to get right into the matter, but it seems that I have massively underestimated you. Gwendis mentioned your research on soul gems in passing while you were having dinner. That sounds groundbreaking. So you incorporated Shalidor’s research into a small-scale experiment, and it... it worked?" Verandis said. He seemed tired, but interested nonetheless.

"I did. You see, it wasn’t quite my main interest. I sadly need the soul gems, because... well... I don’t think I’ll have to explain it to you. It’s not difficult to live without one’s soul, but it still comes with some special problems. It also comes with some great advantages, so I have been thinking, you know... when I get my soul back, _if_ I get my soul back, I shall attempt to store it away myself. But a soul gem is too risky. Soul gems can be destroyed, and those who use them rarely have any regard for the soul itself, just the energy it provides. So, you see, if I could create a realm within a realm, a place within the Aurbis, and keep my soul there..." Manerion said, his voice a mere whisper. "You see, I would have been killed many times already would it not be for being a Vestige."

Verandis frowned. "If your goal is immortality, there’s many more ways to achieve this. But it’s not as desirable as it may seem."

"No, Verandis, you misunderstand. It’s not power that I seek, not hunger for knowledge, not the fear of death that's making me do this. But I need to help for as long as I can. I can’t travel as easily with the baggage of my soul. I need to get as many souls out of Molag Bal’s grasp as possible."

Verandis flinched at the mention of the name. "So that is your main concern currently? Saving souls from Coldharbour?"

Manerion nodded. "It’s a great effort, I know. But so long as those who die are entrapped in Coldharbour instead of returning to the dreaming sleeve... as long as that is the case, I need to save as many as I can."

"And then you may die?" Verandis asked.

"And then I may die."

Verandis seemed uncertain how to react. "That is... not what I would have expected. You know... as you might imagine, I’ve met many of my kind. I’ve met many who wished to receive the Dark Gift just as well. Most of them can be grouped into two categories quite easily: those who feel like a mistake in the eyes of Arkay and Auriel, and those who only desire power, whichever sort of power that might be. It seems to be the nature of immortality. Those who think the Altmer could somehow return to the lifespan of the gods by retracing the steps, making the world walk backwards, they... even if it were to work out, they wouldn’t know what they would be inflicting on themselves. It’s not something you wish for lightly."

Manerion almost wanted to ask how and why Verandis had been turned, but he bit his tongue instead. It seemed to personal, too intimate a question. "Have you regretted it?" he asked instead, still worried Verandis might deem him uncouth.

"Sure. Most of the time," he answered, his voice grave. "But I, and by extension, all of House Ravenwatch... we follow a sort of set of rules. I try to make sure that they are followed, but it’s difficult for some of them, especially Gwendis. She has much to learn still. But we try to use our gift to serve the community. We never kill when we feed, we try not to hurt those who give their blood willingly, we don’t feed more than is necessary. We make an exception for those whose only goal is to do evil. Noble spirit and constraint, you see?"

"That surely helps. But I’m certain this doesn’t give you any reason to be less secretive, or else you would’ve appeared as you are when you went to Shornhelm," Manerion concluded.

"Correct. I mostly try to stay out of the affairs of mortals when I can. They get unsettled so easily that it would do us more harm than good if we were to reveal ourselves, even if we explained our motives to them. We can only show our true nature to those we trust."

"Then why do you trust me?" Manerion asked finally. The question had slipped out of his mouth before he realised it.

Verandis smiled, his voice very quiet. "I don’t know."

He sat down finally and sighed, reordering a few of the sheets of paper he had assembled on his desk. Manerion waited patiently for him to explain the reason for calling him here. And he did, though it took a few more moments of silence.

"I have a very strange request. I need you to see my memories. Find out what I haven’t been able to find. The smallest clue could change everything." He paused, then reached into a drawer of his desk and took out a small bottle, containing a liquid that glowed as gently as Secunda. "I need you to drink this, and walk into a dream."

He gave Manerion the bottle, which he closely inspected. "I just had dinner, Verandis," he said calmly. "And it was quite good. I don’t want my stomach to turn around just now. What will happen to my body once I drink this?"

"Your body will fall asleep, that is it. Your mind, however, will wander through my memories. You will see them through my own eyes. I will watch over you while that happens. No harm will come to you."

Manerion regarded the bottle again while Verandis explained the procedure. He then opened the bottle, smelled the liquid - it had no discernible scent at all - and nodded. There wasn’t much to lose for him, was there? "Good. I will do it."

Verandis seemed to look weak quite suddenly, and he didn’t smile. "Thank you, friend," he said, and Manerion downed the content of the bottle at once.

He set the glass bottle on the table again and looked about. He remembered the quaint moon sugar liquid he had had to drink when he had begun to walk the Two Moons Path with Shazah and Khali. But this, whatever it was, didn’t feel like it was liquid at all. He had felt as if he had drunken air, but suddenly, his lids grew heavy. He saw Verandis, who looked at him expectantly, the eyes full of warmth even when they were not changed by a spell, but then he felt his upper body feeling so weak suddenly, and he found his head falling towards the table, and then...

He felt dizzy. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, and was suddenly glad that House Ravenwatch kept their castle quite dim. He rubbed his forehead as he sat straight again, trying to adapt to the place again. He had been... elsewhere, but now he was back in the time and the place he had left.

"Did it work?" Verandis asked, his voice friendly but urgent.

"Y-yeah... I think so... give me just a moment," Manerion said and took a deep breath. Once his dizziness faded, he began to speak again. "I was... you were there, but I was you as well? It was strange... but there were these people - Baron Montclair and his family, and the Argonian. They had been your friends."

Verandis nodded, but let Manerion continue without interrupting him.

"The Baroness... Leila Montclair, she had been sick. No one knew what had caused the affliction, but no treatment worked... until Reezal-Jul found these shards, that is." Manerion took another moment to order his thoughts. "Wylon Montclair, he had asked you to turn Leila, but neither you nor Leila were willing. These shards seemed to cure her, but it got worse when they ran out of power, so to speak... Reezal-Jul finally got the idea of using an artefact found on the topmost spire of Erokii. The... Lightless Remnant? You went to Erokii to retrieve it, but things got out of hand when... when you touched it, Verandis. Instead of curing Leila, she was turned into a feral vampire. And you... you had to kill her."

Verandis had rested his head on his hand, gazing off into nothing. He seemed to have no intention of saying anything, so Manerion continued. 

"Montclair seemed almost possessed during the ritual. His nature had changed... I mean, of course, he and his family were vampires now, but even before that, he seemed to distrust you more and more. And now, with you having killed his wife, he saw you as a threat instead of a friend. You only escaped thanks to Gwendis. But it seems that there’s more than that. Even with his wife dead, what use would there be of taking over Rivenspire? But I have the feeling he’s too drunk on the power - one might blame it on his vampirism, but I feel that the Lightless Remnant is to be blamed."

"Autaracu alata," Verandis said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"The remains... the remnant of light?" Manerion asked.

Verandis nodded. With a sigh, he sat straight again. His expression reminded Manerion of Ayrenn’s, weeks after having lost her brother: wanting to cry, but being too exhausted to do so.

"That’s what they used to call it when they brought it to Rivenspire. At least if my research is correct. The material is unclear at times..." Verandis mumbled. "Thank you for this. I had... I had forgotten so much. It was such an important, though gruesome, event in my life. How could I forget it?" He barely looked at Manerion, his question directed to no one.

"What a question, Verandis. This was a highly traumatic event in your life. Seeing your friends turn against you after having to kill someone you trusted and cared for..." Manerion shook his head. "No wonder you forgot it, Verandis."

"But I..." Verandis voice died down again. There was a crack in his voice, and he covered his face with his right hand, breathing in deeply. "This wouldn’t have happened if it hadn’t been for my intervention."

"Verandis, no," Manerion said, reaching over the desk to touch Verandis’ left hand. It was much warmer than Manerion had expected. "You had exclaimed your discomfort when you were at this place. Baron Montclair... he forced you to do this, despite your refusal. He didn’t listen to your opinion on the matter. If anything, this is his doing, not yours. Besides, we cannot know what the artefact had been used for before you touched it. Maybe your vampirism is not to blame for the corruption."

Verandis moved his hand away from his face to look at Manerion again, then took one of the papers on his desk and gave it to him. Manerion looked over it: It was a translation of an Ayleid text, brought into Tamrielic by Beredalmo the Signifier. Someone - probably Verandis - had scribbled the original in Ayleid script into the margins. It told of how Anumaril had asked of a certain Filestis to take the Remnant of Light to some place - Skyrim? - but Filestis had taken it to another place, possibly High Rock. The place was cold and barely inhabitable, but the Remnant of Light granted them food and warmth and the land transformed. When Filestis was close to dying, the Remnant saved him and he lived for many more years.

"I know how this must sound to you, Verandis. This thing had the power to grant life, but once you touched it it only granted undeath. But you know of the tales about Anumaril, don’t you?" Manerion asked.

Verandis merely shrugged. "Remind me again."

Manerion tried to choose his words wisely; he didn’t want to sound as if he was teaching a little Altmer boy about the history of the Ayleids, but Verandis looked so broken, so vulnerable, that Manerion still spoke in a soft voice, regardless of how grim the topic was. "Anumaril had been the king of the city of Abagarlas, situated in close proximity to what today is the Imperial City. Unlike the neighbouring city of Delodiil, whose people were devout followers of Merid-Nunda, Anumaril’s people worshipped the Harvester of Souls." Manerion tried his best to avoid Molag Bal’s name until he knew the reason for Verandis’ reaction when he had said it earlier. "He planned the destruction of Delodiil, driven by envy and hatred, but ultimately failed when Delodiil disappeared and Meridia destroyed Abagarlas. But Anumaril has to be credited for more than that - at some point of his life, I’d suppose after the destruction of Abagarlas, he created the Staff of Towers, each of its fragments representing one of the Towers of Nirn." He leaned over the table, his hand still holding that of Verandis. "And see, I’ve been in Elden Root. I’ve been to the Orrery. I’ve held Anumaril’s heart, thus I know these stories to be true: he created this staff, but ultimately was forced to disassemble it, keeping only the part of his staff representing Tower One and attempting to take over Green Sap with it, for lack of a better wording. Anumaril’s endeavour eventually... well, if you’ve read Aurbic Enigma, number four, you’ll know that there is no knowing of whether he succeeded or not, though eventually... since there are no Ayleids to celebrate the success, even a success would be a failure in this case. But my point is... if Anumaril gave an artefact to Filestis to take it to _fal sorn glathe_ , then there’s a good chance it is that part of the Staff of Towers that he had planned to take to Snow-Throat to begin with! Which would mean... it would mean that..."

"It would mean that there’s a good chance this artefact exists in a reality in which it is impossible for it to be destroyed, if Anumaril truly succeeded in creating semblances of the Towers," Verandis merely said, his voice tired.

"That... yes. But you have to admit that if it truly has been created by Anumaril, whose aims were far from noble, whose worship revolved around his abuse of power... there’s a decent chance it has been tainted before you got close to it," Manerion explained.

Verandis seemed to consider the option. Finally, he seemed to realise something, and his expression brightened again - finally, he moved the hand that Manerion had held the whole time, and took Manerion’s hand into both of his own: "What do you think - if all possibilities are innate to the Remnant of Light, which they would be if it were a part of the Staff... wouldn’t that mean there is a possibility in which the Remnant has not been corrupted?"

Manerion could barely conceive the negative consequences of this - after all, the existence of time made the depending of two things on another possible to begin with, and to change one thing would mean to change all others - but he didn’t want to ruin Verandis’ hopes just yet, so he tried to be careful with his words. "I have neither evidence supporting it, nor do I have evidence speaking against it, so... it might be possible, yes," Manerion said with a smile.

Verandis only let go of Manerion’s hand after another moment, a moment that seemed delightfully long and much too short at the same time, and leaned back in his chair, running his hand over his beard. "Maybe there _is_ a chance. Maybe we can somehow... somehow change it."

"Maybe, Verandis," Manerion replied, but Verandis wasn’t listening.

For a long while, Verandis sat there and said nothing, gazing off into nothingness and seeming to consider the options, to think about the possibilities. Manerion realised that Verandis wouldn’t say anything else unless his thoughts were disrupted, but he enjoyed this moment, the quiet. He looked at Verandis for a while, feeling more comfortable than he had in a long time. But then he realised that the reason for this comfort was the fact that he could sit here with Verandis, neither of them uttering a word, yet neither of them feeling uneasy about it, and it was only the realisation of this fact that made him feel quite strange very suddenly. He felt the need to stand up and leave the room at once.

"Verandis, I’m... I’m really tired," he said, and it wasn’t a lie: since drinking this strange potion Verandis had given to him, Manerion could barely keep his eyes open. "I’ll go to bed, if you don’t mind."

As expected, this disrupted Verandis’ thoughts. He looked up quite suddenly. "Oh, I’m sorry. I know, you need rest. Please, I’ll show you where you can sleep."

He got up and left the room, and Manerion followed him. In the western wing of the upper floor of the castle, there was a spacious bedroom. Manerion had expected the worst, but to his surprise, this room was much cleaner than the rest of the castle Manerion had seen thus far, despite the fact that the vampires apparently made no use of it. The bed looked comfortable, and Manerion could barely wait to get some rest.

"I, uh, I tidied up a little. I wouldn’t have wanted you to sleep on spiderwebs," Verandis said, answering Manerion’s unspoken question. "Make yourself at home. Do you need anything else?"

Manerion shook his head. "I don’t think so. I should have everything I need. But thank you, Verandis."

"Good. Sleep well, and I hope you will have pleasant dreams," Verandis said with a nod of his head, leaving the room and smiling at Manerion before he closed the door.

Manerion felt stranger then ever before on his travels. Being soulless in Coldharbour, traversing the demi-plane of Jode, slipping in and out of a corporeal form whenever he used the wayshrines for travel... none of this felt as weird as this, and he was strangely anxious about it. Were he not so tired, he would’ve walked back to Verandis’ study again, asking him if they couldn’t maybe talk about anything at all - it had been so enjoyable to talk to him.

He tried to shake off the thought of it, and got ready for bed.


	4. A Call From Coldharbour

It was so cold, so unbearably cold. Manerion rubbed his hands, his joints aching from the freezing air, but to no avail. It kept being colder than the harshest winter days he could imagine. But there was no snow, since there were no clouds, because there was no real sky here - at any rate, he couldn’t call this mass of blackness above him a _sky_.

He went across the cold stone, making his way between discarded mindless slaves, trying to be quiet but realising then that he was unseen - these soulless beings had no way of noticing their surroundings anymore. There was a fissure in the ground, getting broader and broader in the distance, eventually turning into a crevice. He followed the fissure, looking into the crevice in front of him, finally seeing a glint of colour there. It stood out in this world of greyscale, and Manerion soon realised that it was not just any patch of colour and of life in this hostile realm, but that it was hair. He walked on, towards the red hair, red as the fur of a fox - but foxes couldn’t survive here, no animal could, for the creatures that lived here were either dead or monsters. Finally, he found this figure with her red hair: it was a young woman, or maybe still just a teenager, her skin pale except for the dark bruises on her face and arms. She breathed, and although her breath was shallow, she still clung onto life with everything she had.

"Save me, please," she said, her voice nothing more than whispers. "Come here and save me before it’s too late, I beg you..."

 

Manerion awoke in cold sweat. This had been real. It had been a dream, but it had been real. He got out from under the blanket immediately, tried to ignore his vision almost fading to black from standing up so quickly, put on a pair of socks, and rushed out of the door. He had to go there immediately, there was no second to lose.

He couldn’t hear any voices that could’ve pointed him to anyone who was awake, so he had to go look for Verandis. When he didn’t see him on the upper floor, he went downstairs, finally finding him standing at a window in the banquet hall, holding his hands behind his back and staring out into the night. He turned around and looked at Manerion with a bit of a bemused smile.

Before Verandis could say anything, Manerion already blurted it out: "I need to open a portal to Coldharbour!"

Verandis’ smile turned into a look of shock immediately. "Coldharbour? In my castle? Have you lost your senses?"

"I need to, now! Immediately!"

Verandis calmly shook his head. "Now, now. Try to stay calm. Why in Syrabane’s name do you want to go to Coldharbour of all places?"

Manerion tried to take a deep breath, half leaning against a wall because his blood pressure still hadn’t quite stabilised itself. "I had a dream. It’s... I’ve never had such a dream, but I’ve heard rumours from others... others like myself, you know? Us who lost our souls. There was a girl... she was in Coldharbour; clearly she hadn’t gone there on her own behest. I need to go there and get her out of Coldharbour before she is turned into one of Bal’s mindless slaves."

"But it was a dream. Maybe... maybe the potion I gave you had an unexpected side effect," Verandis said, still calm. "At any rate, this is much too dangerous. Not only is there a chance that it was a meaningless dream, but if it wasn’t... it might be a trap, and you’d walk right into it. You’d present yourself to the God of Schemes on a silver plate."

"And what of it?" Manerion said, but Verandis looked at him like you would look at a young boy who believed he could kill a dragon with a fork. "Verandis, look: I’ll just go there quickly, and if I find someone, I’ll get them out of there, and if I don’t, I’ll return immediately. This is not the first time I’ve been to Coldharbour. I’ll take care not to lead a hoard of daedra back here. Do you want me to go somewhere else? I’ll certainly find some old ruin here where I can’t even bother the dead."

Verandis rubbed his forehead. "No... no, it’s alright, I’d prefer you’d stay here instead of some other place where I can’t... just... just please stay here, Manerion."

That had been the first time Verandis had said his name, Manerion noticed. "Good. It won’t take long, you know. As I said, if I find nothing, I’ll go back and no harm will be done."

"Wonderful. But please dress yourself a little more appropriately before opening the portal, will you?" Verandis said.

Manerion looked down at his clothes: he still wore the comfortable white linen shirt and pants he usually wore for sleeping, save for the socks he had put on before walking across the cold floor of the castle. His hair was still braided, though tousled from all the tossing and turning.

"Hm... you’re probably quite right. I’ll change back into my robes," he said, then walked back up the stairs.

Once he wore more respectable clothing, had combed and done his hair, and washed his face to get rid of the fatigue, he walked back to the banquet hall, his staff by his side. Verandis watched him without a word as he took out a number of soul gem fragments, placed them on the ground, and connected them with fiery Daedric letters so that they formed a circle. He used a simple spell to reveal the cardinal points to him, placing himself south-east of the circle. Before he began the incantation necessary for going to this Divines-forsaken place, he turned to Verandis again.

"Would you mind heating some water for me?" he asked. "Just water."

Verandis furrowed his brow. "If you insist," he merely said.

Manerion nodded with a smile to thank him. He then turned around and began to recite the Daedric ritual that he had modified together with Varen Aquilarios. It would ensure the greatest possible amount of safety for the travellers and the surroundings of the portal, and its secrecy depended solely on the absence of the travellers’ souls. If anyone still possessing their soul would walk inside, the portal would collapse into itself. But since the portal could only be opened and closed from one side, and since daedra were similar to Manerion in their vestigial status, he had to be exceedingly careful.

A cold white light appeared within the circle, forming an oval-shaped portal and blinding Manerion with its brightness. He closed his eyes and stepped right through it. His body seemed to turn into cold liquid, spreading everywhere and being pressed into itself at the same time. Manerion was careful not to make the mistake of opening his eyes until his body had re-formed at a different place: Coldharbour.

It was as cold here as it had been in his dream. The placement of the portal had not been quite accurate, but he had only missed the place he had dreamt of by a few steps. He took a moment to be relieved by the quality of his work, then concealed the portal with a small makeshift spell. It was still visible, but it wasn’t quite the glistening oval of white light anymore, looking more like air in the distance as it flickered in the summer heat - only that there was probably barely anyone in this realm who still remembered summer.  
Apart from that, the place was emptier than it had been in his dream. No Soul Shriven were nearby, so Manerion followed the fissure he had seen in his dream, which eventually lead to... nothing. More stone and rock, but no red-haired girl.

He searched on. The place he stood on was nothing much more than a stone walkway connecting two towers, sharp spires against the blackened sky. Quietly and carefully, he walked towards one of the towers and glanced inside. There were stairs leading further upwards here, patrolled by a flesh atronach whose stench filled Manerion’s nose immediately. He hoped that the girl would not be inside this tower, and sneaked away, trying the tower on the other side of the walkway. Inside this tower, a Xivilai made notes in a book - or was it a stone tablet? - sometimes looking around as if trying to remember something. They were joined by another Xivilai, who had come from the other side of the tower.

"Did you get everyone by now?" the second Xivilai said to the first.

"I think I must have. I went through the prisoners three times and I doubt I missed anyone," the first Xivilai said.

"Good. Medrike wants you to give a report on the prisoners now. Anyone of importance? Any special prisoners?"

"No," the first Xivilai simply said. "None of them showed any signs of intelligence anymore, and most of their flesh has already begun to rot." They chuckled. "Just as master likes it. There were a few who were in better condition, and I couldn’t beat all of them awake, but there’s no rush for that, after all."

"Right. The second round should come any minute. Leave the plate here so that they can go over the list again," the second Xivilai said.

With these words, the two of them left the tower - luckily in the opposite direction to the one where Manerion stood - but not before leaving the tablet with the names of the prisoners on a crude stool within the tower.

This was Manerion’s chance to sneak inside. Once the two Xivilai had gotten out of hearing range, he walked into the tower, which was nothing but a circular prison. Inside the cells, there were loads and loads of Soul Shriven, and many of the doors stood ajar: obviously most of the prisoners had lost their will to escape already, and couldn’t be saved anymore even if Manerion dragged them back to Nirn. He took the tablet and looked over it. There were roughly twenty names on it, which probably only mattered in case Molag Bal needed a powerful hostage then and again. Manerion recognised none of the names, and as he looked back to the Soul Shriven in their cells, he realised that they would most likely not recognise them anymore, either.

His hopes vanished. What if he had been too late? Taking the stone tablet with him, he walked around the place to check if the red-haired girl was still among them. His heart began to race suddenly - what had the Xivilai said just then? ‘The second round should come any minute?’ What had they meant? He rushed through the place, and sighed in relief when he found the girl from his dream. She looked even worse now, her long red locks obscuring half of her beaten face, but although she was unconscious, she still seemed to be in a much better state than the rest of the prisoners. The Xivilai had obviously noticed that too, as they had made sure to lock her cell. He cursed under his breath. He had a few lockpicks in the pocket of his robe, but he was not overly proficient in picking locks, and he was quite shaky on top of that. Storing the tablet away safely, he took out a lockpick and tried his best: it must’ve been Auriel’s divine intervention, Manerion thought, since the lock sprang open at once.

But that was his least concern now. He could suddenly hear a group of Dremora approaching, their unnaturally deep voices echoing as they got closer and closer. Manerion hurried: he took the girl into his arms, lifting her up and carrying her out of the cell. He could see the group of Dremora as they walked towards the tower - right past his portal, and without noticing it, he thought with relief. He rushed away, finding a small, dark place underneath the set of stairs that led upwards. He crouched underneath it, still holding the girl in his arms, and hoped that the Dremora wouldn’t sense his heart beating in fear.

They entered the tower. There were five of them - a bit much for Manerion alone, but if he had to, he could face them in battle. Sending prayers to the Divines that this wouldn’t have to happen, he tried to breathe as quietly as possible as the Dremora looked around.

"Good. More servants for the master," one of them said, looking very pleased with himself. He then turned around to look at the small stool, the only piece of ‘furniture’ in the room, and found that nothing lay on top of it.

"Where have they got the list of names?" another Dremora said. He had obviously noticed the missing tablet as well.

"These senseless bastards. Can’t ever do their job right," another Dremora replied, looking as if he wanted to punch something. "Let’s go report this to Medrike immediately. He’ll have his fun with those rats."

Manerion was almost worried for a second - would those Xivilai be tortured because he had stolen the tablet? - but then he realised again that these were Xivilai after all, and they wouldn’t have hesitated for a second to throw him into the Halls of Torment if they had discovered him here. But to his greatest luck, the Dremora left the tower then, probably going to wherever the Xivilai had gone before. Manerion waited for another second, hoping that they wouldn’t come back and notice that an intruder had been here. When no one came back, he stood up, carrying the girl with him, and then got out of the tower as quickly as he could. Once he was outside, he charged through the portal without even checking if anyone was patrolling the walkway. In the last second, he could hear someone yell - yell anything at all, it was barely comprehensible - but Manerion was already going back to Nirn.

He stumbled out of the portal into Ravenwatch Castle’s banquet hall, laying the girl on the floor carefully, then rapidly turning back around and destroying the portal with a blast of magicka before anyone else could use it. Inelegant, but effective.

He was breathing heavily, drenched in sweat from the sheer fear, and turned around to kneel down beside the girl. Verandis rushed over to him.

"Is everything alright? Did it go well?" he asked.

Manerion nodded, taking out a cotton handkerchief to dry his forehead and laughing with relief. "Yeah, yeah. It worked out. They had locked her away already, but I managed to snatch her out of their grasp before they could harm her anymore." He looked at the girl, whose skin had an unnatural pallor. She was probably a Breton, although she looked a little too tall for that. She looked alive, yet anything but healthy. "But something’s wrong with her."

Verandis looked at the girl as well. He looked at her arms, which weren’t only bruised, but had unhealed deep scratches on them as well. He rubbed his chin. "Looks... not good. I fear she might have had an... encounter before she died."

"Encounter? What do you mean?"

"Well..." Verandis looked back at her again, just to be sure. "She might have been infected with Noxiphilic Sanguivoria in the brief moments leading up to her death. I think she’s well past the point of being able to be cured but... I don’t know, it seems she also isn’t yet a vampire."

"How would that work? And what do we do now?" Manerion asked.

"I’d say you should try to heal her wounds first, and then hope that she wakes up so that we can get the full story out of her. As for the question of how all of this would work... I truly don’t know. Of course being a vampire primarily affects the body, but to be turned, you do need a soul, you know?" Verandis explained.

Manerion thought about it for a moment, then rolled back his sleeves and used restoration magic on the wounds he could see. It was effective, as most of the wounds healed immediately, which proved that she couldn’t be undead yet. Her eyes twitched, but she didn’t wake up.

"We should just wait, really," Verandis said. "It’s best to let her recover at her own pace from now on. If she doesn’t, then we’ll have to think of something else. But for now, we should let her rest."

Manerion nodded. Verandis gestured at him to wait and left the room, then returned a while later with blankets and a pillow.

"Let’s bring her to a more comfortable place. I still have that divan in my study that should be big enough for her," Verandis said.

Manerion lifted her up again, and they brought her away, carefully setting her unconscious body down on the sofa. They placed a pillow under her head and wrapped her in a blanket.

They decided to stay in the study then. Verandis had truly been so kind and heated up water for Manerion, who now enjoyed a cup of tea. It felt marvellous - it soothed and warmed him, and he felt as if he had less things to worry about, but since this cup of tea had not been intended for himself, it still didn’t make him as happy as he had hoped.

"Once she wakes up, she should have one as well, you see," Manerion explained. "That was why I had asked you for this to begin with. We’ve always done this - when we rescue someone from Coldharbour, I give them some tea to drink so that their mind cannot grow tired. And it’s... just pleasant, you know. But usually, the people we rescue are conscious when they return to Nirn."

Verandis shook his head with a smile. "I must admit, I truly wouldn’t have thought there would be any truth to what you said when you came here earlier. ‘I must open a portal to Coldharbour!’ I had figured you must’ve had a strange dream, but I would never have guessed that it would be a vision of sorts."

"I don’t even remember what I dreamed before I had this vision... oh, I almost forgot this," Manerion said suddenly, reaching into his pocket to get the tablet he had taken with him. "I had planned to destroy it while I was still in Coldharbour, and it must be disposed of quickly, but maybe you want to take a look at it as well before I do that? It’s a list of names of prisoners they had brought to Coldharbour."

Verandis didn’t look as if he truly wanted to touch it, so Manerion just placed it on the desk so that he could read it. 

"I might have heard some of those names before, but I can’t really recall. At any rate, I don’t think I’ve ever met any of these people," Verandis replied after having studied the tablet carefully. "The other prisoners... were they beyond saving?"

Manerion nodded. "There comes a point where most of the prisoners of Coldharbour eventually break. Their bodies are imperfect already, since they’re not quite the same bodies they - we - used to have in life, they merely follow the same pattern. And I do know there’s been experiments to strip them of their minds as well. But whether or not their mind is taken from them, they... they can never keep their own self for very long after losing their soul. I was only lucky because I was saved almost immediately after having been killed." He rolled back his sleeve and made the tablet turn to dust with a simple spell, letting the dust rise up and dance as it was undone from creation.

For a moment, there seemed to be the hint of something in Verandis’ face - was it pain? - but then he just looked at the table again. "How... I apologise if this question is too personal. But how have you been... killed?"

Manerion wondered at Verandis’ hesitation as he spoke. Had he not been killed as well, in a way? Were the circumstances of his own turning so much of a sensitive topic to him, making him realise how much Manerion could possibly be hurt by it?

"You see... I don’t quite remember, to be perfectly honest," Manerion replied. "I lived near Shimmerene, you know? I owned a beautiful little house, made of stone. A single floor on which I lived, and a small... I can barely call it an attic. I could only reach it by standing on a ladder, but even then only half of my body would fit inside." He laughed. "When it wasn’t too cold outside, I usually left the attic window open, since birds often visited me there and sometimes nested there as well. I had this small house, and a garden where I grew herbs for potions and teas. Together with the small shop in Shimmerene that I owned, it had cost me a fortune, you know? But it was worth it, and it went well for... yes, 210 years, roughly. I don’t know if that number has any relevance for an immortal, but for me, it was everything. I made enough money to be able to keep on living there without difficulties, and as I had mentioned, I taught many of the children of nobles from all over the Summerset Isles. I had close acquaintances in the Mages Guild, and some friends from in and around the city as well. I had very little to worry about, you know? At the beginning, it was very difficult... I had set all my hopes on that shop instead of beginning a career centred around magic, and I had spent all my savings and half of those of my parents, but it worked out, you see? I sometimes got into trouble with people who wanted to steal the bees that frequented my garden, but..."

"Bees?" Verandis shook his head with an amused smile. "What sort of bees did you keep?"

"Oh, I didn’t really keep them, but there were a few hives here and there on the meadows around my garden. They probably liked my flowers... Isgareth Bees, if you’ve ever heard of them?"

Verandis burst into laughter. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"What? I... no, Verandis, why would I lie to you?" Manerion replied with uncertainty in his voice.

"You don’t know? Isgareth Bees are said to produce honey that grants immortality. Of course people would try to rob you of them, they’re believed to have been gone extinct a long time ago after all. Too many people wanted their honey without actually caring for the bees, you know?" Verandis explained, still laughing.

Manerion’s eyes widened. "Really? Oh, I never knew. I just found them lovely to look at - so large and friendly. They never stung me."

"And they killed you over _bees_?" Verandis asked, not being able to hide his amusement at the idea.

"No! I mean... no idea. I don’t think it was because of the bees. The Worm Cultists had other ideas of attaining immortality after all. I was praying in the monastery in Shimmerene that day... the Monastery of Serene Harmony, you know. And I... my memory isn’t very clear. I know I was alone there that day, which I found strange to begin with. I think they kidnapped me that evening, and while I was in this... this place where they had taken me, they killed me. I don’t exactly remember how it happened anymore. I know it was a exceedingly elaborate thing; they performed an extensive ritual while I was able to do nothing about it. I remember they had whispered among each others that they can’t believe _I_ was the threat that Mannimarco had talked about. What they meant... I don’t know. But Mannimarco appeared then, and finished the ritual. And I was... I was gone. I awoke in Coldharbour then. And I... had lost everything." It grew difficult to speak for him. He had thought about it many, many times, but never explained it to others in such detail. Indaenir and Shazah had been among the only ones who had been curious enough to ask him, but he had the feeling Verandis would understand better than anyone else. Maybe he had been to Shimmerene, seen the glistening sea that he dreamed about so often? He realised he was close to tears, and took a deep breath. "You know, this was never... never what I would have imagined, never what I would have hoped for. My friends, my home, all these birds that used to visit me... I often awoke from my dreams after I had returned to Nirn, thinking that I must feed the birds! But there... there were none. My house, my garden, everything was lost. I have never heard of any of my friends again after that. No news from the Shimmerene Mages Guild, nothing." He took another deep breath, and was glad that Verandis was so patient and didn’t comment on the tears filling his eyes. "I was in Coldharbour then. I still get so scared when I have to return there, but it has to be, you know? It reminds me so much of when I first was there, confused, knowing fully well that the chance of getting out of there was... almost non-existent. Realising slowly that I might never be able to return to my home, never. That was a worse fate than death. But I got out of there. I was saved. I found myself in Khenarthi’s Roost... a beautiful little island of the Khajiit. Peaceful, beautiful, definitely, but it wasn’t home, and I had been thrown into the Alliance War I had hoped to avoid. I knew no one, had nothing. My senses were almost numb for many weeks after I had returned to Nirn. I had to re-attune to Nirn immediately after getting back here, but even that barely _felt_ like anything. I couldn’t properly hold things for a long while after getting out of Coldharbour. My ability to taste and smell things had almost disappeared completely, and it took its time for me to retrieve these senses again."

"Do you think that might be because... you mentioned something, you mentioned that your bodies aren’t the same anymore once your soul has been taken to Coldharbour," Verandis asked, his voice curious but kind nonetheless.

"It’s ever-changing, really. This body is not the same I had two hours ago," Manerion said, already smiling again. "It re-forms from creatia whenever I travel by portal or wayshrine, and it does so whenever my body falls apart by being harmed too much - or what people would commonly call ‘dying,’ even though that doesn’t apply to me."

"But do you notice the change? If your body is constantly forming, falling apart, and re-forming... is a difference noticeable?" Verandis asked on.

"I don’t examine it so closely whenever that happens," Manerion said with a laugh. The tears in his eyes had dried before they could fall. "But it isn’t so different, no. The Soul Shriven who remain in Coldharbour... they have this problem. Their body begins to decay almost immediately after it is formed in Oblivion, even though ‘decay’ is not quite the right word. It’s more like... building a house that is supposed to be the exact copy of another house, but here and there you forget beams that are necessary to support the house. So the house falls apart, you know? But that isn’t the case for those of us we managed to rescue from Coldharbour, and myself of course. And I’m sure this isn’t just my imagination going wild - if another person were to try and spot the difference before I, say, enter a portal, and after, they would find nothing, I believe. And if there are any differences, well. Then I can proudly say they’ve never truly affected me."

"No, I didn’t notice anything," Verandis replied quietly. "Not even one aspect of your face has changed."

Manerion was surprised by this statement - he wasn’t so sure what to reply suddenly. But in the corner behind him, the red-haired girl seemed to move.

"Is she waking up?" he asked. The girl was breathing more deeply, her face turning into a pained expression, but before Manerion could stand up to comfort her, she already looked as if she was merely sleeping again.

"She needs a bit more time," Verandis concluded. "If she does become a vampire eventually, which I feel is inevitable at this point, then I shall do my best to teach her. If she’s willing to follow our code, that is. I will have to introduce both of you to the members of House Ravenwatch."

"So there’s more than just you and Gwendis?" Manerion asked.

Verandis nodded. "A few - but most of them travel around a lot of the time, except for me, Gwendis, and Adusa. But you shall meet everyone in time, if you wish." He seemed to realise something very suddenly. "You will stay a while longer, won’t you? I’ll need your help here, really. It would be best if you could stay for at least a while, and... you can live here in the meantime, you know? This way you won’t have to worry about looking for an inn."

"Of course, Verandis. I’ll stay as long as this threat persists, if that is your wish. And I thank you for the offer."

"Good. This way we’ll surely be able to strike the Montclairs at the heart quickly. And you’ll be safe here as well. As for the girl, she can stay until we have been able to talk to her," Verandis explained.

"I had this idea, Verandis. What would happen if you were to turn her while she is in this state? I’m not asking you to actually do this, please don’t get me wrong. But hypothetically... what would happen?" Manerion asked.

Verandis merely shrugged. "I don’t think it would work. As I said, all of my studies have pointed towards needing a soul in order to be given the Dark Gift. That is... that is kind of the point, after all, promising your soul and being rewarded with these powers. If there is nothing to give away, there is nothing to receive in return, you know? That is, I think, the reason why she’s in this state of an in-between, a ‘maybe.’ Her body is responding to the disease, but her soul cannot be affected as well."

"I see..." Manerion replied. "I’m sure we’ll be able to think of something once she’s awake. Verandis, I understand why this room doesn’t have windows, but do you know when the sun will rise?"

"I think it should already have risen by now. At least I’m quite sufficiently tired by now," Verandis said with a weary smile.

"Oh, then you should go to bed! Or... or wherever you sleep. You never sleep in beds, do you?" Manerion asked, but he had to laugh at how stupid this question sounded.

Verandis replied with a smile as well. "I sometimes have to, when there’s no other option. But coffins, you see... they’re just more convenient for protecting you from the light."

Manerion wanted to ask more - he didn’t understand why there was a need for this, since Verandis had walked around in sunlight just fine earlier in Shornhelm. But he didn’t ask any more, since Verandis truly looked fatigued by now.

"I will take care of the girl in the meantime. And you will get some rest, will you?"

Verandis nodded and stood up. "I hope we can continue these conversations once I’ve had some sleep. As I said, make yourself at home." He walked past Manerion, and for a moment it looked as if he wanted to place his hand on his shoulder in a friendly gesture, but he let it be. "I know that this place is not quite a beautiful garden on Summerset Isle, filled with bees and butterflies and beautiful scents. But I hope you will find that this house is a place of tranquillity and let it ease your mind a little."

"Thank you, Verandis," Manerion replied, and Verandis walked out of the room.


	5. Acquaintances in the Waning Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of those chapters where nothing much happens. Still, enjoy!

The girl was not about to wake up anytime soon, Manerion felt. He got outside to walk around for a bit, but soon returned back inside because the castle’s surroundings truly looked more depressing than any landscape he had ever seen before. The castle looked so imposing from the outside, almost frightening, and a dense fog hung on the spires in the morning. The inside of the castle certainly wasn’t much more inviting, either; no fireplace could truly warm the walls of stone, and the few windows didn’t allow for a lot of light to find its way inside. Some rooms upstairs had stained glass windows, which like a senseless effort on this hill the sunlight barely touched. And there were so many doors here - far too many doors for the small number of people that supposedly lived here. But then again, Manerion also knew nothing about the people who had constructed this castle, their situation, and what power House Ravenwatch might have held once.

He hadn’t returned from his walk, however, without picking a few flowers that he had found to grow here rather abundantly: he didn’t know them, but they had tiny, delicate white petals, framed by large, dark green leaves, and they grew close to the well next to the castle. Apart from that, there was a number of beautiful conifers in this part of Tamriel, but the rest was just stones, rocks, boulders... grey and more grey wherever he looked.

He placed the flowers inside a vase on the banquet hall’s table. The castle was very quiet - all of the vampiric inhabitants were probably asleep right now, and if there were any living members of House Ravenwatch in here, he couldn’t find them. So he returned to Verandis’ study again, beginning to read in a book on Old Bretic inscriptions found in Stormhaven. Only when he realised how empty his stomach felt quite suddenly did he decide that it was time for breakfast. It was when he got back from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of soup that he noticed that the girl was slowly opening her eyes.

Setting the bowl on the desk, he quickly knelt down beside the girl, patting her arm.

"It’s alright," he said, "you’re back in Nirn. You’re safe now, it’s alright."

The girl looked deeply troubled as she looked around the room with her grey-green eyes. "I’m not there anymore?" she said, her voice weak.

"You’re not there. You’re in Rivenspire now."

"Rivenspire?" she said, slowly coming to her senses again as she sat up. "How have I gotten here?"

"Do you remember anything? The only thing I can tell you is that I took you back to Nirn from Coldharbour. You had sent a distress signal of sorts, I believe. So I went to Coldharbour and took you to a safe place, to this place," Manerion explained with a slow voice. If she was in any way like him after he had returned to Nirn as a Soulless One, it would be great luck if she had understood even half of his words.

"No, I... I don’t remember... what about my parents? My aunt? My brother? Where are they?" She didn’t look at him as she spoke to him, her eyes rapidly scanning the room instead. Temporal blindness, Manerion supposed, but she probably didn’t realise it yet because all of her senses were still numb.

"I don’t know, I’m sorry. But don’t worry, we’ll find out. Are you hungry? Thirsty? And what is your name?" he asked.

"El... Eldhraun is my name, Eldhraun Gwernydd. I’m very hungry, and very thirsty."

"Good. Is there anything in particular you want to eat?" Manerion asked, half out of fear that she might reply with ‘blood.’

"I don’t really care. Something warm," Eldhraun replied simply.

Manerion stood up again. His soup wasn’t boiling hot anymore, and he supposed it would be at a good eating temperature by now. He took the bowl of soup and sat down next to Eldhraun.

"I have soup. Can you hold it? You don’t need to be afraid, it’s Sun’s Dusk stew. I... I missed some ingredients, but it’s nice, still."

Eldhraun took the bowl and held it in both of her hands. "I can’t see very well," she seemed to realise suddenly. "And my hands feel... numb. I don’t know if I can eat."

Manerion wondered if she would be able to taste and process the food at all, since she had not attuned to Nirn yet. But if his theory regarding the attunement was correct, the soup should help some if she managed to have a few spoons.

"I can hold the bowl if you want. If you need help with getting the food on the spoon and such, I shall try to help with that as well," he said.

Eldhraun shook her head weakly. "Just hold the bowl, please, and I will try to do the rest on my own."

Manerion took the bowl out of her hands, holding it so that she would easily be able to do the rest on her own. He still helped her with actually getting the soup on the spoon for the first time, and gave her the spoon carefully then. She managed to get the spoon into her mouth, though it looked impossibly difficult and she barely managed to get it out of her mouth again. Manerion had to resist just taking the spoon and feeding her like a sickly animal.

But she managed. Slowly, she ate one spoon of soup after the other, only getting a few drips on her brown blouse. And it took a long time, but she truly seemed to regain her strength the more she ate, and when the bowl was almost empty, she looked directly at Manerion.

"I can see you," she said, the sound of her voice ominous enough for Manerion to almost drop the bowl.

"You can? Is your sight returning already?" he asked instead.

Eldhraun nodded. "I have never met you before, though. How did you know where I was? Where was I, anyways? I only remember these blue flames and the dark sky."

"You were in Coldharbour, Eldhraun. I’m very sorry to tell you this, but you..." He almost didn’t want to tell her just yet. "I had a strange dream of someone - you - calling out to me from Coldharbour, so I went there and took you back to Nirn. I’m supposing it was your doing, that you had called out for help and I just happened to be able to listen. Sadly your soul is still in Coldharbour, however. You... you were killed, you know? Whoever killed you took your soul and placed it inside a soul gem. You surely have noticed the Planemeld while you were still in Nirn, haven’t you? Molag Bal, the one behind this scheme, steals the souls of people who die. I’m afraid you were among them. But you don’t need to be afraid. I have been in the same situation as you, and we will retrieve your soul as soon as possible."

The look in Eldhraun’s face broke his heart, but he had seen this look so many times before.

"I..." she began to say, but then she just started sobbing. "I died? But why? How?"

"I can’t tell you, Eldhraun, I truly don’t know. I’m sorry. If you want to, I’ll do my best to find out the circumstances."

Eldhraun put the bowl into her lap and buried her face in her hands. She cried horribly, and Manerion put his arm around her in hopes it might comfort her some to know that she wasn’t alone here. But then suddenly, she looked up again, drawing in air sharply.

"I remember... I remember now! There were... there were noises coming from underneath the house. My father couldn’t go - he wasn’t home, he had to go to war - and my mother and my aunt, they couldn’t go down there, so I did... My brother said he’d have my back, but as soon as we realised that there was... a really large cave system underneath our house... as soon as we realised that, he was gone without a trace, so I had to go on my own. And there were vampires there! I have no idea how they got there, no idea... but they recognised me as my father’s daughter, and there were so many of them, and..." She moved her hand to her stomach suddenly. "I think they stabbed me here, and one of them had this... this jewel... and the next thing I remember is this dark place, and how afraid I was."

So Verandis had been right, Manerion thought to himself, taking the bowl away from her and putting it on the desk before he sat down next to her. 

"How do you feel now?" he asked, but the response was kind of obvious.

"’Awful’ is the right word, I think... but I feel warm now, and... kind of safe, like I don’t need to run anywhere anymore, at least for a while. I think I can sense things again, but I still feel... strange... is this how you feel without a soul? You do not have a soul either?" she replied.

Manerion nodded. "I lost mine as well. It was a while ago, over a year already. But that is a thing you really shouldn’t worry about - there’s worse things than living without a soul. It comes with its benefits. And we’re working on a way to retrieve our souls, but Tamriel needs a little more peace before we can face this threat."

"Then that is one less thing to worry about?" Eldhraun asked, and Manerion nodded. "But I need to know more. What is this place? Will you help me now, or... where will I go now?"

"I think you will be able to stay here for a while longer. This is Ravenwatch Castle," he explained.

"Ravenwatch? I think I’ve heard this name before," Eldhraun said. "Who is the head of this house?"

"Count Verandis Ravenwatch. He is kind enough to let me stay here for now, and after I had taken you here from Coldharbour, he told me he would help you with your affliction."

"Affliction? You mean... the soul thing?" Eldhraun asked.

Manerion shook his head. "There... there’s another problem. These vampires you mentioned... they were able to infect you with Noxiphilic Sanguivoria before you died. You cannot be cured at this point anymore, but you also aren’t a vampire just yet. Verandis... I mean, I have been told that this is highly unusual, but is certainly to be attributed to the fact that you lost your soul during the infection process. I don’t quite know what this means for you, but there’s a high chance you will have to spend your life as a vampire."

Eldhraun seemed to consider this fact. It didn’t seem too much of a shock for her, though, but people could hardly be shocked _after_ having been told that they had just died and left their soul in the throes of the daedric Prince of Torture.

"Well, if that is the case, then... then this is just how it is. There’s... there’s certainly positive things to vampirism as well, right?" she said, looking at him as if she had just remembered her favourite vampire tale.

"I guess so. I can’t know, I’ve never been a vampire and I don’t plan on becoming one. But certainly... the ability to see at night as if it were day, the ability to inflict both suffering and desire upon your victims, the immortality... those things might seem very appealing for some." Manerion shrugged. "You will certainly not need to have a fear of the dark ever again."

"And how will this Count Ravenwatch be able to help me?" she asked finally.

"Well, you see, he... you know, he should just tell you himself. I’m sure he will be able to word it much more eloquently than me." Manerion laughed nervously. "But he... he can’t tell you right now, because he... he’s asleep, you know. He needs to rest, this night was quite exhausting for us, you know..."

Eldhraun looked at him in pure horror.

"Oh, Divines, I should just stop talking," Manerion muttered. "I mean... there’s an evil vampire baron in Rivenspire right now, and he wants to do... Phynaster knows what! We’re trying to find out, and we’re trying to stop him. Hence the exhaustion. Not... not whatever you had in mind!" Manerion got up and paced the room nervously. "Speaking of that, how old are you? I doubt that the vampires who attacked you had a code of not turning minors, but after all you might have to spend an eternity in your body as it is now."

"I’m 17. So no, they apparently didn’t care for my age."

Manerion’s first thought was somewhere along the lines of ‘the poor thing, she could be my daughter!’ but then he quickly realised that anyone under the age of 250 fit that criterion. But he also thought about what Verandis might think about this fact - maybe he would not want to help her anymore once he found out how old she was? But then again, how old might Gwendis have been at the time of her turning? She looked quite young as well, but maybe he had had no other choice but to help her. But Manerion tried not to worry about it too much - there would be a way, and he had heard rumours about there being a cure for vampirism as well.

"I’m sure we’ll find some way. Maybe living in this state you currently are in won’t be too bad. But what needs to be done now is attuning you back to Nirn. Have you ever heard of Skyshards?" he asked.

Eldhraun shook her head. Slowly, she tried to get up, and finally managed to stand.

"Alright. They are... how do I sum this up very briefly... they are shards of Aetherius, shards that came from beyond the stars to reach Nirn. But they are special in their connection to Nirn, and to live here again for a prolonged period of time, you will need one of these shards. You have weapons?" He noticed the two daggers at Eldhraun’s belt.

She nodded. "I can’t use them very well, but they’ve sufficed for now. I will learn to use them better if there’s need."

"It definitely can’t hurt, you know. I wasn’t much of a fighter before all of this happened, but I didn’t have much of a chance of staying out of fights once I got back to Nirn. So yes, we’ll certainly find someone to teach you. I don’t know how to use a blade, I’m sorry. But not to worry - can you walk?"

Eldhraun seemed uncertain herself, so she tried to walk a few steps, and, to Manerion’s surprise, managed just fine. 

"Wonderful. I could barely do anything for weeks after I got out of Coldharbour. But wondrous - we can go and find a Skyshard for you, alright?"

 

They left the castle together. Whenever Eldhraun had difficulties walking, Manerion supported her. They walked down the stairs to Ravenwatch Castle - slowly, steadily - into the direction of the small town at the foot of the hill.

It didn’t look less scary at daytime than it had when Manerion had gotten here last evening - was it truly only last evening? It had felt like an eternity! But there were feral vampires scattered all over the village, aimlessly wandering the streets. Had these people been turned by the Montclairs, right in front of Verandis’ doorstep to remind him of their presence, ridicule him? There was the small possibility that Verandis could be to blame just as well, but Manerion quickly discarded the thought. He couldn’t have done such a thing, certainly. Or was Manerion just under his vampiric spell?

A glistening white light was visible not far away from them - they had truly been lucky to find a Skyshard so quickly, as Eldhraun could not travel by Wayshrine before being attuned, and she obviously couldn’t travel far by foot in this state either.

"You see this light?" he asked Eldhraun and pointed into its direction. "That is the sign by which you can recognise a Skyshard from quite far away. Some have an especially strong energy and you will sense them from places where you can’t even see them. Let us go there and I will show you how to use it."

They reached a point on the stairs where they could have gone further down, to the abandoned village, or cross a bridge that lead to a ruined tower besides which the Skyshard lay. Manerion guided Eldhraun across the bridge.

"This is a horrible place," Eldhraun finally said, looking at the ruined tower. A recent landslide must have destroyed it, though the castle had apparently not been damaged. "Everything is so lifeless. Where are the people, the flowers, the animals? I thought this was a castle. Are its inhabitants just as dead?"

Manerion sighed. "I know this is not quite the most beautiful place in all of Tamriel. But I have in fact met living people in this province, if that’s what you’re wondering. And they were nice, as far as I could tell. But I have only arrived in Rivenspire yesterday."

"Where have you been before that?" Eldhraun asked as they slowly reached the other side of the bridge.

"Glenumbra, but only for a short time - I spent almost my whole stay there in a carriage, as I had arrived in Daggerfall by ship. Before that... Reaper’s March, Malabal Tor, Greenshade, Grahtwood, Auridon... I’ve briefly been to the Alik’r Desert and Deshaan as well, and I used to live on Summerset Isle."

"Then you have seen so many places!" Eldhraun gasped. "Glenumbra is my home, you know? But I haven’t ever left this part of High Rock. Daggerfall is the biggest city I’ve ever been to."

"Then you should see Alinor some day," Manerion said. He wasn’t so sure which of the two cities was larger, since he had only been to Daggerfall very briefly, but judging by what he knew about Eldhraun so far, she would probably like Alinor's lively streets. "See, here? This is a Skyshard. Go on, you can touch it."

Eldhraun approached the glowing piece of white crystal slowly, bowing down to touch it. Being filled with the silvery light as well, she hovered above the ground for a few seconds. When she stood firmly on the ground again, she looked at her own hands in shock, then down on her body.

"It feels... different. I feel better. I can... see and hear clearly again," she said, her look of shock slowly turning into a wide smile. "This is much better."

Manerion smiled with relief. "Then let us go back to the castle. I’m quite hungry as well."

They returned, and Manerion showed her at least a few of the rooms he had been to himself, while always making sure to tell her many times that he also was just a guest here. He then finally got around to heat up the rest of the soup and make a nice warm cup of tea for Eldhraun and himself.

While he was having his long awaited breakfast, he let Eldhraun explain her family’s situation to him. Before being killed, she had lived near Westtry, in a house together with her mother, her father, her brother, and her mother’s sister. She belonged to a noble family that had lost all their wealth centuries ago. Her father, a Nord, had been the heir to a small principality surrounding the town of Wittestadr, though he eventually gave away his inheritance and joined a raid to Westtry, where he ended up staying with Eldhraun’s mother. Manerion felt like all of that made little sense, but he concluded that Eldhraun had left out some aspects of the story - either because these details were too personal, or because she was still confused due to her own death. He didn’t worry too much about this fact, however, and noted down the names of her close family members. He would have to ask Verandis how they could find out the details on their whereabouts most easily - he seemed to have quite the knowledge about this.

Until then, however, they had to kill some hours. Eldhraun was still too weak to travel, and Manerion couldn’t just leave her alone in the castle, both for her own good and in case she turned out to be quite different from Manerion’s first impression of her. He didn’t expect her to go and rob the castle, but he also didn’t quite feel happy with just leaving her in this place that didn’t belong to him.

Hence they talked for a while longer, and after Manerion had explained some of the difficulties and advantages of being a Vestige, he found out that she quite liked caring for animals, and that her family had had a large black dog and two horses she loved very much. Besides, she seemed fond of music and arts, so Manerion played a few tunes on his flute for her. They ended up finding a lute stored away in a dusty dark corner of the banquet hall - a relic of a very different time, Manerion thought - and Eldhraun decided to play a bit. She hadn’t touched a lute in some years, she told him, so it took her a while to tune it and get used to it again. But Manerion was impressed that after an hour, she could already play a simple melody she had remembered. He remembered again how long it had taken him to get back the feeling in his fingertips after he had died.

In the meantime, he decided to try and be useful. Verandis had told him to make himself at home, but this place had quite too many drips of blood on the tables, so he changed his clothes, got himself a bucket of water and a cloth, and began to at least clean the dining table. Quite soon, though, he realised he had not only dusted and cleaned the table, but also the drawers, the candelabra, the bookshelves in Verandis’ study, and most of the kitchen. Once he was done, he began to worry that Verandis might get angry at him for just cleaning the place without asking him first, but he decided to ignore this fear with the excuse that this place had badly needed it, after all.

Eldhraun got tired at some point of the afternoon and decided to have a nap, leaving Manerion alone. It was then that he realised with a bit of a shock that he hadn’t found any ingredients for a lunch in the castle thus far, and he hadn’t had the opportunity to buy anything. Hoping that he wouldn’t get hungry any time soon, he sat down in the banquet hall with a book as the sky began to turn grey outside.

"Isn’t that boring, reading all day?" he heard a voice say quite suddenly.

He almost fell off the chair - Gwendis was sitting opposite him, her legs on the table, but he had never even noticed her approach.

"Goodness, Gwendis! How long have you been sitting there?" he asked.

Gwendis shrugged. "Long enough to deem you a boring old man. Is reading all you old men ever do?"

Manerion frowned. "I did a bunch of things today already. I’d only decided to sit down and read now that I had run out of things to do."

"Exciting," Gwendis replied with a yawn. "Who’s this girl though? Before I went to sleep, Verandis had mentioned something about some portal you wanted to open, and that I should not disturb you, blah... I guess that girl is whoever you took here through the portal?"

Manerion nodded. "I rescued her from Coldharbour. She’s been infected with vampirism though, so Verandis said he would want to help her in some way."

"Oh, she’s been infected?" Gwendis said with a strange delight in her voice.

"Yes... the thing is just that she’s not a vampire quite yet, and we don’t know how things will evolve in the state she’s in."

"Not yet?" She licked her lips. "D’you think I could speed up the process a little?"

"I’m not sure that would work. She doesn’t have a soul, you know?" Manerion explained.

"So? Ah, there was something Verandis had mentioned once, right... what a pity. She’s cute enough, I’d have liked to... help her, you know."

"Maybe once she is turned you can help her a little to get accustomed with things, if you’d like. Teach her how to... you know. The sort of things you vampires do. Do you know how to wield a blade?" he asked her.

Gwendis let out a quiet triumphant laugh, pulling out a dagger from a sheath on her belt and twirling it in her hand as if it were nothing. "Maybe, kinda?" She smiled a toothy grin. "Why? Does she need lessons?"

"I’d say so. This world is dangerous enough already, but with everything that’s going on right now I’d prefer if she knew how to defend herself."

"Good, great! Then I’ll show her how to slit a throat without spilling too much blood on the ground," Gwendis replied.

Manerion wasn’t too sure whether he should be happy about this, but he still nodded with a smile. "Thank you, Gwendis. So what are you up to now? Vampire... things? Killing people and such?"

"Nah... Verandis prefers if we only feed every second day, and he goes without feeding for even longer periods of time," she said, still playing with the dagger. "I’ll wait for Adusa to return. She might have news on the whole Montclair business."

"Adusa? Verandis had mentioned her name - she also lives here, doesn’t she?" Manerion asked.

Gwendis nodded. "Yep. She’s been here for longer than any of the others, I think, save for Verandis of course. She’s also a big supporter of Verandis’ rules, and she can get uncomfortable when we don’t adhere to them, but she’s very nice. Sneaky, smart Khajiit."

"And there’s a few more who live in the castle, right?" Manerion asked curiously. 

"Yes. Except for me, Verandis, and Adusa-daro, there’s also Melina, who’s an enchanter. I get along with her very well, but she’s often away from the castle. She has a bit of a problem with falling for young mortal men, you know? But we’re very good friends. And we used to have mortal servants living here, but that changed when all of this began... the landslide and all, you know. Estelle and Kallin stayed here for the longest time, but Estelle had to leave to help her family, though she might return again soon. And Kallin got into some troubles for coming to the castle and travelling with Verandis so often, but I don’t know the details. He still comes here, but usually only for an evening or two before he leaves again. Both of them are fine - Kallin is a bit too quiet, but Estelle is very sweet and helps us with everything." She looked over to Manerion finally. "And now there’s you and that girl as well! How exciting."

Manerion felt as if he had to object to that, but he decided against it. Verandis had said that he could stay for a while, after all.

"So you are... some kind of strange little family?" Manerion asked finally.

"I guess so. We don’t share the same blood, except for Adusa and Melina. But that doesn’t mean anything in the end, right?"

"So Verandis wasn’t the one who turned you?"

Gwendis shook her head. "He found me after I had been attacked by vampires and left for dead. He didn’t even hesitate for one moment when he saw me there, already starving... he just took me here and helped me ever since."

Manerion smiled. "Then I truly haven’t misjudged him."

"No, I don’t think you have. Verandis is the kindest man I’ve ever met."

There was softness in Gwendis’ eyes - in the blood-red eyes of this fiend of the night who always seemed so tough. But she seemed to try to put off whatever thought she had in mind and avoided to look at Manerion.

"What’s the name of that girl, by the way?" she asked.

"Eldhraun Gwernydd," Manerion said.

Gwendis frowned. "What a weird name."

"I assume she got her first name from her father, who’s a Nord, and her last name from her mother, who’s a Breton. Or... well. We don’t know if they’re still alive. That’s what I’ll have to find out as soon as possible."

"Oh, don’t worry about that. I think we’ll find that out before you have even been able to leave the castle, you just need to ask."

"Just ask? Alright - would you mind helping me with finding out the whereabouts of Eldhraun’s family? She lived near Westtry before."

Once he had said that, Gwendis stood up at once. "Sure thing. I’ll promise we’ll have every information we need before the sun rises again."

Manerion wanted to ask how exactly she would do that, but she had already left the room. Only a few minutes after she had gone, Verandis entered the room. Manerion tried to sit straight suddenly.

"This girl... you shouldn’t give her any ideas," Verandis said, shaking his head.

"G-good afternoon, Verandis?" Manerion replied, smiling with confusion. "I’m sorry, I didn’t think Gwendis would just... do whatever she’s doing right now."

"She’s still in the castle, if that is what you’re wondering about. But she wants to leave for Glenumbra. I trust you have gotten some information from the girl?"

Manerion nodded. "Eldhraun is her name. She was able to eat something today, and she’s recovering splendidly. I assume there’s been no change to her infection, but I wouldn’t know. She’s taking a nap right now, but I already told her you’d help her, so you can certainly talk to her directly once she’s awake."

"Wonderful. I shall get some routine work done and return to you. Oh, I forgot to ask Gwendis - any news from Adusa? Have you seen her enter the castle?"

Manerion just shrugged. "I’ve not seen anyone here besides you, Eldhraun, and Gwendis."

"Alright." Verandis rubbed his forehead. "I hope she’ll be back with news soon."

With that, he left the room as well, leaving Manerion alone again. He could barely wait for the next vampire to enter the room without giving him a chance to ask where he could get dinner from.

And he didn’t have to wait for very long - quite soon, he heard the large door of the castle open and then close again. He wasn’t sure - should he sit here, unassumingly reading his book? Should he get up, so that he could approach the person immediately? He just closed the book and waited expectantly, and just then, a grey-furred Khajiit entered the room.

"Ah, beautiful! Has Estelle returned already? The castle looks so much better now!" she said with delight, looking around the clean banquet hall, but then spotted Manerion sitting at the table. She looked at him in confusion at first, then immediately drew her dagger. "Who are you? Quick! Or this one’s knife will be at your throat before you can even think about drawing a weapon!" she said, her eyes flashing with anger.


	6. Between the Pages

"Please, wait! I’m sorry for not having had the chance to get to know you yet. I - I - I’m a visitor, a guest of Verandis! He - he asked me to help him with the... the Montclair problem, you see?" he said, holding up his hands in defence.

"Has he? Hm..." She slowly sheathed her weapon again, never breaking eye contact. "How can this one know she can trust you?"

"I don’t know, just... Verandis can explain it. He said he’d return presently."

"Good. This one will wait here then," she said, and wait she did. She sat down in a chair opposite of where Manerion sat, still not blinking as she watched him.

"You’re Adusa-daro?" he asked once he had gotten sufficiently uncomfortable with her staring.

"Hm-hm," she replied simply.

"Ah. Gwendis and Verandis have mentioned you. They haven’t told me much about you, sadly."

"Hm-hm."

Manerion blinked, and then looked away with a sigh. She would probably not be less distrustful until Verandis told her that he meant no harm.

"I should mention - there’s another, uh... mortal here. It’s a Breton girl, I’ve brought her here. She’s still very weak from everything that happened to her. Please don’t hurt her in the meantime - she’s currently in Verandis’ study," he explained, but this time, Adusa didn’t react.

So they just waited. Manerion grew quite hungry in the meantime, and he briefly considered that, well, if he were to tell Adusa that he was responsible for the cleaning, she might tell her if they had a secret food cache somewhere. But he quickly discarded the idea when he turned to look at the angry Khajiit again, and figured just smiling politely might be the only thing that wouldn’t get him a dagger in the eye.

Finally, Verandis returned.

"Adusa! I’m so happy to see that you’ve returned safely," he said, but Adusa didn’t turn around to look at him.

"Verandis. This one must know who this mortal is. He smells like one of these elves who spend too much time in their temples, worshipping the light."

Manerion couldn’t even object to that accusation.

"He means no harm, Adusa. He was sent by the Aldmeri Dominion to help restore peace to Rivenspire. I specifically asked him to stay here," Verandis explained calmly.

Adusa finally relaxed and looked to Verandis - smiled, even. "Good. Adusa is glad we have someone who’s going to help us."

"Me too. He seems to be quite... extraordinary, and I’m certain he will be able to help us. We can trust him, most definitely," Verandis said then.

Adusa looked back to Manerion, still smiling, then stood up and crossed her arms before her chest. "Then this one welcomes you to Ravenwatch Castle."

"Thank you for your kind welcome," Manerion replied, not without a bit of bemusement in his voice.

"So, Adusa. Any news?" Verandis asked then.

Adusa nodded. "Not for the longest time, but as soon as this one had something to report, she returned immediately." She leaned onto the chair she had sat in before. "Reezal-Jul is travelling through Rivenspire and turning anyone who can’t oppose him. From what this one knows, he will soon turn to the camp Janeve Tamrith set up near Shadowfate Cavern."

"What might he be planning?" Verandis wondered.

"This one doesn’t know, but this one has a very bad feeling about this."

Verandis merely nodded. "Thank you for the information, Adusa. We should investigate this as soon as possible."

"Shall I go and see if they need any help there?" Manerion suggested.

"No. I mean... not now. Night is fast approaching and I... I need you here. For some material I would like to go through with you, you know?" Verandis said hesitantly.

"Good. I’ll try to help you as much as I can. But, uhm... do you have anything to eat here? For... mortals?" Manerion said, trying to speak louder than his stomach was rumbling.

"Oh, right. Food. Of course. There should be some in the basement. Shall I show you the way?" Verandis asked, and Manerion nodded.

The basement might not have quite been the secret miracle stash Manerion had hoped for, but still, there was much more to be found here than he had expected. He had gotten a glimpse of other rooms down there - a bathroom as well, which gave him the hope of being able to take a nice bath later - and at the end, he returned to the kitchen with saltrice, beets, cheese, onions, carrots, and some more seasoning and herbs. He set part of the ingredients aside for the next days, and prepared a risotto with the rest. While the rice was cooking, he walked back to Verandis’ study, where Eldhraun was slowly waking up again.

Verandis stood in the doorway while Eldhraun slowly sat up again, rubbing her eyes.

"She truly looks healthier than yesterday," he commented, quiet enough for only Manerion to understand him.

"Probably the Skyshard’s doing," Manerion guessed. He quickly went over to one of the bookshelves and studied it with great interest, hoping that Eldhraun wouldn’t feel as if she had been watched during her sleep.

Eldhraun looked around the room, first seeming very confused, then apparently realising what had happened in the meantime. She looked around the room, finally finding Manerion, who turned around at once.

"Ah, you’re awake again," Manerion said, acting surprised. "I hope you’ve slept well?"

Eldhraun nodded with a smile.

"Good. Eldhraun - I’d like you to meet Verandis, who I had told you about," Manerion said then, and as if Verandis had just waited for his part to start, he stepped out of the shadows.

"Pleasure to meet you," Verandis said with a bow. "My name is Verandis Ravenwatch, and as I’m sure Manerion has already explained to you, I would like to help you with your possible vampirism to the best of my abilities."

"I’m glad to meet you as well," Eldhraun said politely. "You’re... you’re a vampire, aren’t you?"

Verandis looked at Manerion, smiling with raised brows as if he had already expected the question, and then back to Eldhraun. "Yes, I am. Among other things, that is. But quite right - the most important thing for you to know right now is that I have spent many, many years as a vampire already, and I might have some knowledge I could share with you."

Manerion was happy that the two of them seemed to get along, and while Verandis patiently began to answer all the burning questions Eldhraun had, he returned to stir his rice then and again. Eldhraun had been happy when he had asked her if she wanted some dinner as well, so he was glad to bring two plates back to the banquet hall, where he and Eldhraun could eat while Verandis would have his peace and quiet in his study.

"He’s... nice," she said at some point. "I’m not sure yet if I really like him, because he _is_ kind of unsettling, don’t you think?"

Manerion didn’t think so at all. "I guess he might seem strange to many people," he said instead.

"I’m happy he’s going to help me with all of this. He said there’s others here who can’t wait to meet me! This is strange, and unexpected. But if it helps, well... maybe there’s some good to all of this."

"I’ve met almost all of the undead inhabitants of this castle by now," Manerion replied while sipping some tea, "and I really think you needn’t worry. Once they know you’re not here to harm them, they’re all quite kind."

"I’m glad. Verandis... he said he has an idea on how to truly turn me. He thinks I should go to Evermore and do... some ritual there."

"Hm. If that is so, I’ll accompany you there, if you wish," Manerion said. "You’ll have to go through whatever ritual that is yourself, of course, but I’ll still try to be of some assistance."

"Thank you. That will make it a little easier. Oh, and the food is really good! I hear this is how they make their rice in Bravil, right?"

Manerion could barely be happier. "I’m glad all the years have paid off, then. Yes, the recipe is based on one from Bravil, but I’ve sadly never been there to see how accurate the recipe is."

"Maybe one day you’ll go there? Oh, I’ve always dreamed of going to Cyrodiil!" Eldhraun said with the happiest smile.

 

The rest of the evening was quiet and mostly uneventful. After Verandis had introduced Eldhraun to Adusa, who would show her around the castle, Manerion still joined Verandis in his study, and they both took a stack of books and papers to work through in the next few days. Every little hint might be helpful, Verandis had explained to him, so Manerion tried to be as thorough as possible in his reading. It was mostly quiet, save for when one of them had to ask the other something - Manerion being uncertain about some Old Bretic expression where he knew all the words individually, but they didn’t quite make sense together, or once when Verandis was confused to find an Altmeri word in an Ayleid text, which Manerion could trace back to a common Aldmeris ancestor. They hadn’t even been through half of their material when Manerion had more and more troubles to keep his eyes open. He looked at the scribbled notes he had made, but still didn’t quite see the sense in them. The only thing he had become increasingly more certain about was that the Remnant of Light had already been corrupted long before Verandis had touched it, and that the Rivenspire they could see today was not the abundant, green Rivenspire the Remnant of Light had made it. He tried to scribble a little timeline of sorts on his piece of paper, looking at it for a very long time until he realised he was quite too tired for this. It still seemed as if some aspect was missing: the step between the first corruption of the Remnant and Baron Montclair’s sudden lust for power, as well as his ability to create bloodfiends with such ease.

"Have you found anything in particular?" he asked Verandis then, rubbing his eyes.

Verandis shook his head. "Nothing, really. I have the feeling that the fall of the Ayleids has some role to play here. But the story of Anurraame’s tears sounds almost as if it could refer to the Remnant... but that can’t be, can it?"

"Maybe the Remnant was corrupted by the fall of the Ayleids. Maybe the war between mer and men was the cause for its corruption? What do the Old Bretic sources say?" Manerion asked.

"All sources I have here were likely composed after the Rebellion. None of them seem out of the ordinary for a modern reader... they all describe Rivenspire in the way we find it today. It’s the Ayleid sources that give me a headache, but maybe this is just because my Ancient Ayleid isn’t that good... here, take a look at this one." He handed Manerion a copy of an Ancient Ayleid text that had been edited in a recent volume.

The edition was sloppy at best, Manerion realised quickly. The editor had jumped to conclusions in many of the verses of this poem, ignoring the literal meaning of the words.

"This is so strange... here, where the original text says, uh..." Manerion tried his best to translate the passage without a proper grammatical analysis, "’when the flower-scented’, or maybe... maybe it’s just ‘rich in blossoms’ here, ‘when the blossom-rich time... shone on the tower,’ yes, the editor translates it as ‘when spring fell upon the mountains’ - how much further could you stray from the literal meaning? No... I think what this text describes is simply the initial transformation of the Heartland by the Ayleids, and how afterwards this change was made in Rivenspire as well, here: ‘through Filestis,’ or maybe ‘thanks to Filestis... the light shone from the north.’ I’ll just assume this text was written by an Ayleid who already was in what today is Rivenspire, so ‘north’ is probably the city of Erokii here. Ah, look, it’s even mentioned here: ‘in Erokii,’ or ‘from Erokii,’ not sure which case this is, ‘the beyond-the-stars was brought down into our hearts’... see, this word right here... that’s a change from Ancient Ayleid to the High Ayleid we know from most texts; they chose this collective noun to indicate that it belonged to a group of people. That changed sometime in the late middle Merethic era. The editor completely ignored that fact."

Verandis just raised his eyebrows. "Good to have you here," he simply said, then took back the text and looked at it again. "But all of this sounds so... fantastical, you know? It doesn’t sound at all like what the later Bretons describe."

"That’s because it wasn’t the same that the Bretons saw later. Either that, or all the Ayleids had a collective hallucination, but I believe the land changed fundamentally sometime around the Rebellion. Either due to events somehow related to the Rebellion and the hopeless attempts of the Ayleids to cling to this land, or due to the corruption... or change, maybe, of the Remnant," Manerion hypothesised. "I mean, we don’t even know if it truly was a corruption, maybe this relic simply wasn’t created to last for all time, and all that happened was that it lost its power over time. Or maybe it was corrupted through whichever means: maybe due to the fear and anger of the Ayleids as a group, who were somehow bound to the Remnant, or maybe it was abused by someone who wanted desperately to use it against the rebels... we can’t know, really, but any of these ideas seem likely to me."

Verandis seemed to think about it for a long while. "If this idea that it’s a segment of the Staff of Towers holds true, then it couldn’t have lost its power over time. But... could it have been corrupted then? Can the Towers be corrupted?"

Manerion rubbed his chin. "I’ve never heard about such a thing happening. But... all Towers need a Stone... do the segments have Stones as well? Stones that could’ve been lost? But... all that the Towers need is a possibility, how could they... Verandis, I’m sorry, but I think I need some rest before we can continue this discussion."

"I understand. Do you need anything before you go to bed?" Verandis asked.

"To be perfectly honest... I’d really like to take a bath before going to bed," Manerion said, worried that Verandis might find it disrespectful for whichever reason.

"Of course. I said that you should make yourself at home, didn’t I?" Verandis said with a smile. "There’s a pipe system underneath the castle - they were actually very proud of it once construction had finished. That’s the reason the bathroom is hidden away in the basement, too; I hope that won’t be a source of discomfort for you."

"N-not at all! Thank you. Do you think I’ll be able to figure out how it works myself?" Manerion asked still.

"It’s quite intuitive, you needn’t worry about it."

"Wonderful. Thank you, and if I need anything, I’ll just come back to ask again, alright? And if not - good night to you already," Manerion said then, and Verandis smiled at him, but then just looked away again. Slightly disappointed, Manerion just turned around to leave.

"Manerion, I - I have another question, if you allow," Verandis said then.

Manerion turned around again, but Verandis still didn’t look up from the paper he held. "Yes?"

"When were you born?" Verandis asked.

That was definitely not whichever question Manerion could have expected. "308. Why are you asking?"

"308? Really? Wouldn’t have expected that," Verandis replied, smiling at him.

Manerion frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean? Do I look _that_ old?"

"No! No, quite the contrary. For not being immortal like me, you don’t look quite so old. Let me guess - Morning Star?"

"Almost. Sun’s Dawn. The 20th, to be exact. Why are you asking?"

"Oh, it’s for... just for, uhm. You know, maybe... maybe our birth signs will be of importance at some point?" Verandis muttered. "The Ayleids had a knack for such things, you know... just... that’s it already."

Manerion laughed, still confused. "Alright then. Anything else?"

"Yes, just... sleep well, and have pleasant dreams," Verandis said with a nod.

"You too, Verandis," Manerion said, turning around to leave the room.

Only when he reached the bathroom did Manerion realise that he had been smiling the whole way. What a strange, childish little thing! He hid his face in embarrassment.

Getting the bathtub full of warm, clean, bubbling water took him quite longer than expected, but he was happy with the result once the pipes didn’t blow steam right into his face anymore. The room was very dim, even with all the candelabra lit, but he didn’t mind much. Being able to soak in sweetly scented water was a relaxation he hadn’t known he had needed so badly, and this room also gave him the opportunity to finally wash his robes. Once he was done, he hung his robes to dry over a chair in the bedroom and finally curled up in bed to sleep, hoping he wouldn’t have any nightly visions this time.

 

His dreams had been pleasant this time. There had been one very strange dream involving Razum-dar and High Kinlady Estre, who not only was alive and on perfectly good terms with Raz, but had also been transformed into a giant Sload, which no one in the dream seemed to question, including Manerion - but that was already the weirdest of his dreams as far as he could remember them. He felt very well-rested for once, happier than usually when he got ready for the day, and headed down to the banquet hall.

Gwendis was there, seeming quite obviously stressed as she tried to sew something.

"Good morning, Gwendis. Are you alright?" Manerion said, but Gwendis merely made a face.

"Nah. I got a hole in my armour, and I can’t sew it shut, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong... That’s why we had Estelle here, but now she’s away and just look where that gets us," she said, looking at the piece of armour she had in her hands again, then just throwing it on the table in exhaustion.

"Let me see. Ah, that’s leather, isn’t it? You’ll need a different needle then, or poke in holes with something else before you sew it," Manerion said, examining the discarded piece of armour. "I see, it’s just that the seam opened up and that’s how you got the hole," he said then, suddenly realising he had no idea how Gwendis could still not have been able to sew it shut. He took it into his own hands, sitting down next to Gwendis, turning the sleeve with the hole inside out and beginning to sew.

Gwendis began sniffling quite suddenly. "Ooh, you’re smelling nice."

Manerion stopped to sew immediately, looking at Gwendis in pure shock. Was that the sort of thing she said to her dinner before beginning to feed? "Thank... you?" he said with uncertainty.

"Oh, you don’t get what I mean," Gwendis said, rolling her eyes. "It’s the heightened senses, you know? We can sense our victims’ hearts beat faster when we approach, we can see just fine even when both moons are dark. And we have a much better sense of smell, you see. Which usually is kinda annoying, because most people don’t smell so nice. Either they don’t take care of themselves at all, or they dowse themselves in perfume as if they didn’t need to bathe anymore then. Disgusting, right? But you’re alright, actually."

"Ah, I see. That’s good then, I guess." He had no idea how to properly reply.

"Eldhraun smells quite nice as well, don’t you think? Ah - I went to Glenumbra and tried to find out things about her family. Doesn’t look too good, though."

"Oh, that’s a pity," Manerion said with worry. "What did you find out?"

"Her parents and her aunt haven’t made it. They were found quite soon after Eldhraun apparently died. It seems that her father had been on his way home because he had heard something was off. Her brother, though... no idea. I had to give up looking for him. People who knew her family told me they hadn’t really trusted him anyways, and hadn’t seen him in a while. I went to check the house and found that cave underneath. It was empty, but a few dead vampires were still lying around there. The house itself has mostly been destroyed and looted," Gwendis explained.

"Good grief. Then there’s no home for her to return to," Manerion concluded, shaking his head. "That brother seems fishy though, don’t you think? Eldhraun had mentioned he had let her alone as soon as they had found the caves."

"Definitely. I don’t trust that fellow," Gwendis said with a nod. "I’m supposing he found more powerful friends in the meantime. I don’t think we’ve heard the end of him."

"I don’t think so either. There you go, Gwendis -" with the hole fixed, he tore off the rest of the thread and turned the sleeve around again, handing the piece of armour back to Gwendis. "Do you want me to teach you how to do it so that you can do it yourself next time?"

"Teach me?" Gwendis seemed appalled. "No! What for!" She got up and turned around to leave. "Thank you, though. Oh, and Adusa wants to talk to you. You’ll go to Camp Tamrith, right? I’ll try to be there later as well."

 

Manerion had a quick breakfast, then found Adusa upstairs. She explained the situation to him again, urging Manerion to be extremely careful: Reezal-Jul might be at the camp, and he surely wouldn’t hesitate to try to kill him this time.

"This one knows that Verandis would have wanted to talk to you again before you leave, but this whole thing is so very tiring for him, this one fears," she explained, her voice hushed.

"Why do you think he would have wanted to talk to me again? Is there anything in particular I need to know before facing Reezal-Jul?" Manerion asked her.

Adusa seemed hesitant. "He seemed... uneasy when Adusa saw him the last time. Reezal-Jul won’t be an easy opponent, that might be the reason."

"I’ll try to be careful. Gwendis said she might help me, is that true?"

"She wants go there, yes, but Adusa has told her to stay out of the fighting. Hopefully Verandis can appeal to her to stay away."

Manerion nodded. "I’ll try to take care of everything. Right - where is Eldhraun now? I haven’t seen her again."

"Eldhraun is still asleep. This one will have to make sure to tell her the news Gwendis brought about her family," Adusa said with a troubled look. "Then Eldhraun will have to go to Evermore. Will you help her with that?"

"I’ll certainly try. I’m just sure it will involve... vampire stuff I can’t help her with. Other than that, I’ll try to do what I can."

"Good. Then Eldhraun will not have to worry so much," Adusa said and nodded.

With this in mind, Manerion left the castle for Camp Tamrith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised I have a tiny thing I want to share re: languages of Tamriel.
> 
> It's usually accepted that Tamrielic (i.e. the "common tongue", the language we "hear" in the games) is the one spoken and understood by every person in Nirn as of the times the games are set in. There's a lot of other languages in the Elder Scrolls universe, however; Ayleidoon and Jel being just two of many examples, but most of them are either not spoken anymore or are only spoken in small communities that keep them alive.
> 
> As a philologist I'm very enthusiastic about this in general, and it makes me a bit sad that we know the Altmer have their own language, but we don't know much about it. It seems very similar to Ayleidoon, which makes sense considering they both originated from Aldmeris, but they have apparently been closer related than, say, Ayleidoon and Dwemeris, so people suppose Ayleidoon did in fact evolve from the language of the Altmer.
> 
> I don't have a neat theory connecting all of that, but I do have some ideas on how the spoken language of the Altmer might sound. :) When I imagine Verandis and Manerion talking together in the Altmer language, I imagine something similar to Middle Welsh. (I don't know good sound samples of it, except for one: if you listen to [this track](https://store.paganmusic.co.uk/track/prologue) and wait until around 00:45, you'll find a reading of the beginning of the Mabinogion in Middle Welsh.) Put that together with the [few words in Altmer language that we know](https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Lore:Altmer_Language), and you have what I imagine you could hear as chattering in the inns of Summerset Isle.


	7. The Blood-Splattered Shield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took some slight liberties with the quest, again, but nothing major. As always, enjoy!

The camp was situated south of Ravenwatch Castle. Countess Tamrith was there and explained the situation to Manerion: her sister Janeve had opened up this camp for refugees from Crestshade, the small village at the foot of the hill Ravenwatch Castle stood on. Only shortly before Manerion had arrived, Janeve had apparently gone missing. She had tried to seek out and fight Reezal-Jul, who had lead an attack on the camp with countless of bloodfiends. The task was clear: Manerion would have to look for Janeve, since her sister would have to take care of the camp in the meantime.

Manerion’s first hint led to a certain Jonah Marose, who had thoroughly lost his common sense thanks to dreams of Reezal-Jul and who had left the camp since the other refugees had gotten scared of what he had told them about Reezal-Jul. At least that was what he told Manerion, but Manerion figured they might not have wanted him around anymore because of his mother, who had already been turned into a half-sentient bloodfiend. Talking to him with a somewhat increased tone of urgency in his voice made him reveal the way to the cave where Reezal-Jul was hiding out - and keeping Janeve, if Jonah was to be trusted.

Manerion let out a sigh. That didn’t sound good at all: if Reezal-Jul had taken Janeve, he surely hadn’t done so without a reason. He thought back to Countess Tamrith’s words when she had spoken to him at the camp - she didn’t sound at all like the sort of person who could bear being around a vampire, so Reezal-Jul would have a good way to apply pressure on this already tense situation. The Argonian had been smart to take Janeve Tamrith with him now that the Countess was visiting the camp. Maybe he was hoping to turn both of the sisters?

He didn’t like calling to daedra for aid, but Manerion still thought it wise to conjure up a Twilight Matriarch now. If anything, he definitely didn’t want to risk an infection from the bloodfiends, so with his staff at the ready and the daedra at his side, he went to look for the cave.

The path that Jonah Marose had described to him was littered with thirsty bloodfiends and the largest bats Manerion had seen thus far. He managed to get rid of them quite easily, and even found a few wounded soldiers he could help on the way - and a familiar face.

"Darien Gautier? That was your name, wasn’t it? What are you doing out here?" Manerion asked as he approached the black-haired Breton, who was sitting on the ground and held his stomach.

"Relaxing, enjoying the sun, and you?" he replied with a laugh, then seemed to regret it and gasped in pain before continuing to speak. "Ah, you’re probably going to have a little chat with Reezal-Jul, aren’t you? Send him my regards."

"You don’t look so good, Darien. Anything I can help you with?"

"I don’t? Now, now, this might not be my best day, but _not_ looking good... that’s barely possible even on a bad day! Don’t worry about this little scratch here, it’s just... ah... just a small wound, really, doesn’t hurt more than a... a prick in the finger!" He looked as if he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Goodness. You’re trying to get yourself killed, are you?" Manerion crouched down beside him, gently pressing down on the bloody wound, cleansing and closing it with restoration magic. Darien would still require some more care, but this way he might be able to walk back to the camp on his own. "Is it better now?"

"Incredible! Feels better than before I got the wound!" Darien replied with another laugh. "I’ll be able to return to the camp now, thank you. Don’t really think it would be smart to help you with Reezal-Jul... by the way, that fellow’s got Captain Janeve. Tried to protect her, but look where that got me. You’ll get her back out there, right?"

"I’ll do my best. Any hints before I face him?"

Darien shrugged. "He’s pretty damn powerful, but you probably figured that already. Good luck, and try to return... alive."

Manerion nodded. "Alright. Thank you."

With these words, he went towards the cave - surely this was the one named Shadowfate Cavern that Adusa had spoken about. He hoped he wouldn’t come too late and see Reezal-Jul disappear through a portal yet again, but if his assumptions proved correct, Reezal-Jul wouldn’t leave this time, at least not without having turned both of the Tamrith sisters into vampires, so as to keep them under his command and give Baron Montclair one less House to worry about.

The cavern was filled with subordinates of Montclair, who didn’t hesitate to attack Manerion. They were easy to defeat with a Twilight Matriarch at his side, but that didn’t make him worry any less about what would wait at the end of this cavern.

It took its time to fight through the cave. About halfway through, Manerion hid in a dusty little corner to catch his breath and drink some water. He would have to repair his shoes once he’d get out of here, stock up on health potions, get out into the sun... he realised quite suddenly how much he missed the blue skies by now. It had been cloudy since he had arrived in Daggerfall.

But there was nothing to do about this now, so he went on. He found a wooden door finally, hoping that it would lead to wherever Reezal-Jul was hiding. And after opening it as quietly as he could, his worries were confirmed: there, in the shadows, the Argonian who had escaped from him in the Fevered Mews was standing, waiting.

Manerion didn’t truly hope to surprise him. Judging by what Gwendis had told him, Reezal-Jul had probably already heard the opening door, sensed the slight coldness of the wind that was now blowing through the cavern, and smelled Manerion’s blood even as he hid in the shadows. That meant there was no time to lose, and Manerion took a deep breath before doing what he had done every time he just knew his enemy would be so much stronger than him: he cast a shield and a spell that would heal him over time, as well as conjuring up an altar that would exchange every bit of damage done to Reezal-Jul into healing energy for himself. Finally, it was time for the ace he had hidden in his sleeve: he summoned a Storm Atronach to aid him, directing it to where Reezal-Jul stood.

It worked, somehow. Although Reezal-Jul had probably already been waiting for an attack, he hadn’t considered Manerion’s array of spells. With his atronach and his Twilight Matriarch fighting Reezal-Jul in close proximity to him, Manerion could stay at a distance and rain flames on the undead Argonian. 

"Weak mortal!" Reezal-Jul said - not opening his mouth to speak, Manerion realised with horror. Not even the thunder of the Storm Atronach’s attacks could drown out this voice. "You do not understand the weavings of blood. Even if you do manage to defeat me now, you will still not be able to win!"

Manerion managed to ignore these empty words, laden with pathos, as he could sense Reezal-Jul become weaker and weaker with every passing second. Soon, he was crouching on the ground and only trying to protect himself, but before Manerion could believe himself to have the upper hand, bloodfiends poured out from all the corners of the room. While Manerion was occupied with keeping them away and killing them as quickly as possible, he didn’t notice that once the atronach disintegrated again, having spent the full time the summoning had been intended for and returning to its plane, Reezal-Jul rushed over to him directly, ignoring the lightning attacks of the Twilight Matriarch to quite simply punch Manerion in the face.

The blackness in front of his eyes had caught him by surprise.

"Do you not yet realise it?" Reezal-Jul yelled at him, and this time blood poured out of his mouth. "Baron Montclair’s power will make everything you hope for crumble to dust! Accept it now that you still can!" 

Manerion tumbled backwards, trying his best to dodge the dagger slashes that had followed Reezal-Jul’s words. He cast another shield around himself, trying to get a distance between him and the Argonian and ultimately failing. Reezal-Jul managed to cut across Manerion’s shoulder - a cut deep enough to give him a surge of dizziness - but ignoring the Twilight Matriarch ultimately proved to lead to his demise. Once it had gotten Reezal-Jul to his knees again, Manerion managed to deal the final blow, drilling the end of his staff into the Argonian’s head and setting him on fire while he was at it - just to be sure.

Afraid that Reezal-Jul would get to his knees again, Manerion stumbled backwards and finally fell to the ground. Luckily for him, there was nothing left of Reezal-Jul to continue the fight anymore. The fire had been hot enough for his body to shrivel to ashes within seconds, after which only the silhouette of what had been an Argonian before was visible. It seemed vampires _did_ burn like cinders.

He was breathing heavily, still worried the fiend might return. But a certain quiet fell upon the place quite suddenly. What a strange sort of peace this was - such a relief had come with Reezal-Jul’s death.

"Thank you. You may return to your plane," Manerion said to the Twilight Matriarch, who crossed its wings before its chest and disappeared without a trace then.

He got back to his feet with some difficulty, leaving the place as quickly as he could to look for Janeve Tamrith. As much as the fight had exhausted him, there was no time to lose to find her, so although his head and his shoulder were aching badly, he had to move on. Another wooden door led further on through the cavern, and here a woman looking quite similar to Countess Tamrith was lying on the ground. Still alive, Manerion realised with great relief.

"Are you Janeve Tamrith?" he asked, realising only then that his voice was quite weak.

The woman who looked up to him now had bloodshot irides, her skin pale. Reezal-Jul had already turned her.

"Yes, yes, I... I am. My sister... is she safe?" she asked.

"Last I checked, she was safe, yes. And Reezal-Jul is finally quite dead as well. Do you want to return to the camp?"

Janeve Tamrith seemed to consider it for a moment. "I’m worried. You probably noticed already, but the Argonian has turned me into a vampire. I don’t feel... much different from before, though. A lot seems to have changed, but I’m still the same, I’m not... I haven’t lost my mind, and I’m certain it will stay that way. But what if my sister doesn’t think the same? For the safety of Rivenspire, maybe I should... maybe..."

"Let’s get you back to your sister before you can take any hasty actions. Can you walk?" Manerion asked.

"I can," Janeve replied with a single nod.

They left the cave together, out into a gentle drizzling rain, but before they could even reach the camp, Countess Tamrith ran towards them.

"Janeve, you’re safe! Janeve, you -" she came to a halt very suddenly. "What has happened to you? Oh, by Arkay’s might, you are... you are not my sister!"

Janeve looked truly unsettled by these words, so Manerion tried to interrupt.

"Countess Tamrith, please, I ask of you to stay calm. This person is still your sister, even if she has been turned into a vampire by Reezal-Jul."

The Countess shook her head. "No, impossible. Such a creature of darkness cannot be my sister. I will have to kill her now, before it’s too late and she turns on all of us!"

"Have you gone mad?" Manerion said with anger in his voice. There was no point in using the proper etiquette anymore. "This is your sister, and you would kill her without a second thought? That will not save her soul from Molag Bal’s clutches either! The only thing you would do would be to kill your own sister, there’s no positive side to this!"

The Countess looked at him in shock. "And what would you suggest? Let her roam Rivenspire as an abomination?"

"Look, there’s ways to cure vampirism, if need be. And if it proves too difficult to cure her, then there will still be ways to make this existence as pleasant as possible for her. She won’t suddenly transform into a murdering beast. She will be able to control this if she puts time and energy into it." Manerion said this with the hopes that Verandis and the rest of House Ravenwatch would agree to help her, that they would show her their code and give her the opportunity to spend a time in peace. "But if you would rather have the easy way out and kill her now, only to be haunted by her memory for all the years to come, well... I’m not in the position to stop you."

The Countess looked at her sister for a very long time, first still in shock, but then her expression slowly softened. "I do hope I’m not going to regret this," she said, the anger still not having vanished from her voice. "I’m going to let her live and... maybe one day I will be able to see her as a sister again."

Manerion was relieved, though he could still barely believe that the Countess would almost have killed her sister for such a thing. What reason was there to kill a loved one when their self had not changed for the worse?

The anger had taken his mind off the pain in his shoulder, which returned as he left the sisters and walked back to the camp. A priest in the camp was blessing the bodies of those they had lost this day. The smell of incense got carried away by the wind too quickly, and when Manerion saw Darien looking out to him from one of the tents, he felt as if he needed to report the death of Reezal-Jul to him as well, but he wanted nothing more than to return to Ravenwatch Castle again. He merely nodded at Darien with a smile, but then noticed Gwendis standing in the shadows close to the camp.

"Gwendis. It seems they haven’t been able to keep you in the castle, have they?" Manerion asked with a smile as he reached her.

"No, but I arrived too late I think. Reezal-Jul is already dead, right?"

Manerion nodded. "Nothing more than a pile of ashes right now."

"Good. But he got you, right? What about that Tamrith sister?" Gwendis asked.

"He managed to injure me with his daggers, but it’ll be fine. As for Janeve Tamrith... well, she’s been turned. What do you think, will you and the others of House Ravenwatch be able to help her?"

Gwendis shrugged. "I’ll certainly help her if she wants me to, but I’ll have to ask Verandis first. Could become a problem if everyone were to knew what we are, right?" she pondered.

"I thought so," Manerion said with a sigh. "Look, Gwendis... if you don’t mind, I’ll go back to the castle now. Will you come with me or stay here?"

"I’ll stay here for a while. Might have a chat with Janeve Tamrith, we’ll see."

"Alright," Manerion said and nodded. "Stay safe then, yes?"

Gwendis nodded in response, even smiled, so Manerion walked away. The rain had made the air so clear, and Manerion still took a few moments to enjoy it, breathing deeply before taking out the small token Verandis had given to him then and returning to the castle.

As he looked at the castle doors now, he worried for a brief moment that he might have somehow ignored a social obligation by not proudly proclaiming the death of Reezal-Jul to the others in the camp. But Janeve Tamrith would certainly explain the situation to her sister, and hopefully they would still be able to celebrate this victory, regardless of Janeve’s current state. But Manerion was happier now that he was back in the castle. He hadn’t felt like spending another second among people anymore, and luckily for him, the castle seemed quite empty. He sunk into a chair in the banquet hall. He would have to sew his robes, clean his wound, put a bit of a salve on it maybe. But he felt so tired quite suddenly. The battle had taken its toll, and the pain in his shoulder made him weaker with each passing moment.

There was nothing to be done about it - Manerion would have to get up and clean his wound before it could get infected. He managed to walk down to the bathroom - slowly, but steadily - with the Mages Guild robes he had cleaned the day before, a salve, and some bandages, and began to heat some water. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he took off his robes to get a better look at the wound. It was a deep slash, which explained the pain, but it was a clean cut at least. If he took proper care of it, it would heal within a week.

Clenching his teeth, he cleaned the wound with warm water. He felt too weak to simply use some restoration magic and be done with it, and even then, it was best to clean the wound first. The salve he applied then was one he had made himself and always kept at hand for cases like these. With the bandage protecting the wound from further harm and his torn robes exchanged for clean, freshly washed ones, he felt quite a lot better.

When he returned to the banquet hall, Verandis was already waiting. Something seemed off about him.

"Are you alright?" he asked. His voice was strangely quiet, though still perfectly audible.

"I am now. Verandis - I have splendid news: Reezal-Jul is defeated. But sadly, he managed to turn Janeve Tamrith before I killed him."

Verandis nodded. "The first thing is good news, truly. The second, well... that’s unfortunate, but we will see what can be done about it. But are you truly alright?"

"Well... Reezal-Jul managed to injure my shoulder. It’s not the side I use to write and to fight with, luckily, but it does hurt a bit when I try to lift the arm. It’s better now that I got to take care of it."

"Your blood was on the stairs. I had worried about what might have happened at Camp Tamrith," Verandis replied, looking into the distance.

His blood! Manerion felt uneasy. He would have cleaned it had he noticed it before, but now he got worried what an effect it might have on the undead inhabitants of the castle. And there was something strangely off about Verandis, still. His eyes looked so pale, the colour seemed to have vanished from them.

"You do look tired, Verandis. Are you alright?"

Verandis rubbed his forehead. "I’ve tried to track down some of Montclair’s men in the meantime. Couldn’t sleep, you know. I was mostly successful, but they weren’t easily defeated. And I haven’t fed in... a long time, you know..."

"Oh, I... I see," Manerion replied. He was worried about Verandis’ current state, but his last sentence had come with strange implications.

Verandis seemed to notice the hesitation in Manerion’s voice and began to smile wearily. "Don’t worry. Feeding on you is not an option at this point. I will be just fine."

Without another word, he walked past Manerion and left the hall. For a brief moment, Manerion wanted to follow him, but then thought better of it. He felt so tired that he decided that Verandis would probably not need his help right now, and went upstairs to lie down on the bed for a while.

He was half asleep for must have been hours. Then and again, he thought he heard whispers that woke him up, but whenever he was finally awake, there was nothing to be heard. He dreamt of Reezal-Jul staring at him from the other side of the room, and his face seemed much more terrifying to him now than it had when he had fought the Argonian in the cavern. Whenever he awoke in between, he felt warm and cold at the same time, sitting up in bed in panic even when the room was empty and quiet.

He gave up on trying to sleep, finally, and walked downstairs. He headed to the kitchen, but could see Verandis, Gwendis, and Eldhraun sitting at the banquet hall’s table. When he sat down with them some half an hour later, now with some direly needed tea and dinner, they were quiet, uneasy.

"Have you been alright?" Manerion quietly asked Eldhraun, who was sitting next to him. She had braided her long, red locks, and wore some clean new clothing, but looked much more pale than before.

Eldhraun nodded. "I’m mostly alright. Of course, I mean... Adusa told me about my parents, my aunt, and that no one knows where my brother is. That’s still... I try not to think about it. Apart from that, physically... I’ve been alright. But I haven’t felt hungry or thirsty since yesterday. Adusa says I need to hurry with going to Evermore now. Will you still come with me?"

"Of course. I wonder, though, if it would be wise if one of the vampires of House Ravenwatch were to accompany us," Manerion wondered, still speaking in soft whispers.

"Nah," he heard Gwendis say then. "We are already vampires. No need for a ritual to turn us. Besides, this is a different kinda way of becoming a vampire compared to how we did."

"Did you ever read the Opusculus Lamae Bal ta Mezzamortie?" Verandis asked. Apparently both of them had been following their conversation.

Manerion nodded. "Gruesome tale. Any truth to it?"

"Yes. Of course, the exact details are lost to us... luckily. But the basis of this tale holds true," Verandis explained.

"Opuscu... what sort of tale is that?" Eldhraun asked quietly.

Manerion half hoped for Verandis to explain it, but he didn’t, so Manerion began to speak with a low voice. "It’s a story about a Nedic woman... I think some sources describe her as a priestess of Arkay. Molag Bal, he... he violated her. Through a single drop of blood by Bal, she was changed. When people found her, they thought her dead, and tried to burn her body. But the woman resisted - she was undead by that point. She, well... she didn’t treat the people who had tried to burn her very kindly, and she managed to turn others into that same state she was in, growing more powerful through that. She was the first vampire."

There was something in Eldhraun’s eyes now - worry? fear? - but she quickly turned away again. Manerion wasn’t so sure what to say, and it also seemed to be the wrong moment to say his condolences to Eldhraun regarding her family, so he began to eat his dinner finally.

It was eerily quiet again. Gwendis didn’t seem to be bothered by it, and neither did Verandis, but Eldhraun was anxiously fumbling around with a ring she wore on her finger. Manerion didn’t enjoy that the only sound in the room was his munching, regardless of how quiet he tried to be while eating, so he had to ask something again.

"So are there any news? About Montclair, the bloodfiends... anything?"

Gwendis didn’t reply, playing around with an apple that she threw into the air and then caught again. Verandis made an uncertain hand gesture, staying quiet for a long while then before he replied again.

"There is a long list of potential subordinates of Wylon Montclair that we have assembled. There were some names I could already cross off the list: Juberic Gane, Orlozag gra-Yarzol, and, most recently, Reezal-Jul, which is a grand achievement. I went after some rumours of a missing Redguard woman today, and found three rather powerful vampires and their brethren in a cave west of Northpoint." He shrugged. "Three more names to cross off the list."

"And did it work out well? You said earlier that you had troubles. Have you fed since then?" Manerion asked. Verandis’ eyes had turned to their usual shade again.

"The problem was really that they seemed to have been informed that I might look for them, and had taken measures to weaken me. But yes, I’ve fed since then," Verandis explained.

"But you still..." Manerion began to say, but then wasn’t so sure anymore how to put it. "You still don’t look... well. Even by vampire standards."

Verandis smiled wearily. "It has been a long day. And a day! Not a long night. I could live with that."

Verandis didn’t say anything else after that, proceeding to look at everything and nothing at the same time, but Manerion realised that something was off, still. He finished his dinner, sipping half of his still-too-hot tea, then got up hurriedly and walked around the table to stand behind Verandis.

"I knew it. You’ve been injured, haven’t you?" Manerion said as he noticed traces of dried blood in Verandis’ hair - not a place where you would usually get blood when feeding, Manerion supposed. "That’s what’s making you so weak, isn’t it? Why is it not healing?"

Verandis seemed incapable to reply for a while, reaching towards the back of his neck with his hand, then weakly letting his hand sink into his lap again. "It... it should heal soon. It wasn’t an ordinary weapon, so it’s healing much more slowly. But it won’t be a problem much longer. I’m just... very tired. I should go to sleep soon." His voice had gotten quiet, uncertain.

"Or I could just clean the wound. Wash the blood out of your hair, try to aid your wound in the healing process. Please, Verandis. You need to take care of yourself."

Verandis just sighed in response. "I... I will be alright. I’ll always be alright."

"You’re putting yourself at risk by acting like this. And not only yourself, but the others as well," Manerion said quietly, leaning onto the table. "Let me try to help you. Please."

With another sigh, Verandis simply stood up and left the hall. Gwendis didn’t seem bothered by anything at all, still throwing around her apple, and Eldhraun gave him a simple shrug when Manerion looked to her. Uncertain of what to do now, he simply went after Verandis.

He found him leaning against a wall in the basement. He looked so broken now, and he didn’t even try to conceal the pain anymore.

"Verandis, I don’t understand. Why are you doing this to yourself?" Manerion asked as he approached him.

"I... I must not appear weak, don’t you understand? If Montclair has managed to construct weapons that weaken _me_ , but not his feral subordinates... imagine the consequences. I can’t let this happen," he replied, shaking his head with... fear? "If I can’t undo this mistake I made, then what is any of this worth?"

"Verandis, no. Look, I managed to defeat Reezal-Jul without great difficulties. Sure, he succeeded in injuring me, but it’s nothing compared to burning to ashes, as he did. We can stop Baron Montclair together as well. I know you never wanted any of this to happen, but you’re well prepared regardless. Gwendis and Adusa seem like splendid help already. I’ll do what I can as well. The houses Dorell and Tamrith are fighting by our sides. Wounds can heal, but you need to take care of them in order for that to happen." He smiled at Verandis. "Come and show me the wound."

Verandis didn’t object to that and followed Manerion to the bathroom, where Manerion lit a fire to heat the water in its brass container. Verandis took off the shawl he was wearing - slowly, and obviously in pain, which he himself seemed surprised by. In the meantime, Manerion tried his best to build a construction of a chair, a table that stood nearby the wall of the room, and a water basin, so that he could take care of Verandis’ wound without Verandis having to stand the whole time.

"Ah, that’s where they injured you, right?" Manerion said. Verandis had sat down and taken his hair out of the way, so that Manerion could get a look at the wound, which was situated at his neck and seemed to stretch onwards to his shoulder. It looked as if he had been struck with a blade that had been heated to a high temperature, and possibly enchanted in ways Manerion couldn’t determine. "Just sit down over here, and maybe you could... maybe you could hold it like that?" He pulled the fabric of Verandis’ knitted shirt back so that he could take care of the whole wound. For a second, he had considered to ask him to just take it off, but had disregarded that thought before he could think it to the end.

Verandis did as he was told. After pouring some of the hot water into the small basin and mixing it with enough cold water for it to have a comfortable temperature, Manerion took a cloth to clean the edges of the wound.

"Gods! That hurts," Verandis said through gritted teeth. "I haven’t had a wound that hurt so badly in at least three centuries."

Manerion was patting the wound as gently as was possible, but apparently that didn’t make this procedure any more pleasant for Verandis. He tried to get done it with as quickly as possible.

"Do you have any allergies?" Manerion asked then.

"I... I don’t think so, no. I used to get a bit of a rash from... from Blessed Thistle? I think... but no idea..." Verandis muttered, looking downwards with his head resting on his free hand. Manerion wondered for a moment if vampires were able to faint at all, but right now it did seem likely.

"Alright. There’s bugloss in here, water hyacinth, mountain flower... and some other things. I have no idea if it will help you at all, since I’ve only ever tried it out on living patients. But I shall try, alright?" Manerion explained, his healing salve in his hand.

Verandis nodded, greatly weakened by now. If Manerion weren’t so worried, he would almost have found it sweet how Verandis kept trying to act as if the pain wasn’t all so bad at all. He took a generous amount of the salve, applying it to the wound with great care. He hoped it would truly help with his wound, since restoration magic surely couldn’t be used on him with such ease, and as a nice side effect, it kept a piece of gauze in place to protect the wound a bit.

"You can let go now," Manerion said, gently touching the hand with which Verandis still kept his clothes out of the way. "If you notice any negative reaction, tell me immediately, alright?"

Verandis nodded. "It’s... fine right now. It seems to cool the wound some, which is nice."

"Good. That’s worth a lot," Manerion said with a smile, even if Verandis couldn’t see his face from where he sat. "Shall I try to take care of your hair as well?"

"I... wouldn’t object to that," Verandis mumbled.

Manerion had hoped he would say something along those lines. He carefully took Verandis’ hair - quite beautiful and thick, and Manerion noticed it was soft to the touch if one ignored all the blood in it - and let it soak in the water basin he had placed on the table behind the chair. The blood didn’t get out all so easily, so Manerion took a bottle of something he had bought in Dune one day. It was a mixture of coconut oil, beeswax, the fragrances of bergamot and moonflower, and whichever else the Khajiit put inside there - he still didn’t quite believe the vendor who had told him that they most definitely hadn’t added any moon sugar, considering the vast array of different things they put moon sugar into. Only a few drops of it, and Verandis’ hair felt clean and soft again.

"I know that it’s difficult to take care of yourself when you’re in such pain, so I hope I was able to help some," Manerion said once he had rinsed Verandis’ hair thoroughly and begun to pat it dry with a towel.

"Yes, I... thank you," Verandis muttered. He took the towel out of Manerion’s hands, stood up and looked at him with a very strange expression. "It’s... it’s good to have you here," he said simply, nodding profusely, and then left the room hurriedly, leaving Manerion alone in the room.

What a strange reaction, Manerion found. Had he done something wrong? Had he been too intrusive? Truly, Verandis seemed nothing like a person who would let others help him. He told himself not to worry about it too much, but his heart was beating fast still. Maybe he should leave him some more space - maybe Verandis was simply not used to such behaviour, especially from someone he had only met two days ago.


	8. What I Want to Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...or: communication is hard.

Eldhraun had asked Manerion to leave for Evermore early in the morning, so it was well before the sun rose that they stood at the wayshrine of the village of Crestshade the next day. Manerion had explained to her how to travel by wayshrine in great detail, and more specifically, how to get to Evermore, a city she had never been to before.

"Ready when you are," he said, his staff by his side and a large shawl wrapped around his shoulders.

Eldhraun nodded hesitantly. "I think we can go."

They both reached into the cold flame at the center of the wayshrine, focussing on their destination and the way they had to take through the stars to get there, and within moments, Manerion found himself at the wayshrine of the city of Evermore in Bangkorai. It took another bit before Eldhraun arrived - a moment in which he worried horribly that she might have gotten lost on the way - and she almost fell over once her feet had touched the firm ground of the Evermore shrine.

"Are you alright?" Manerion said with a laugh, and Eldhraun managed to catch herself still.

"Y-yeah! I’ll be alright. That was weird."

"It’s always weird to travel through these things. Even weirder when you’ve never done it before! Did you know there were ancient cultures who used to travel through similar contraptions, and we still don’t know how exactly they did it with their souls still intact?"

"N-no, I didn’t," Eldhraun replied with a frown.

"Ah, well. Now you do. So Adusa said it shouldn’t be far from here, right?" Manerion said, looking at a small scribbled map he had made based on Adusa’s descriptions. It was barely helpful at all.

The evening before, Adusa had still explained the matter to them in detail. There was a crypt just outside of the city, dedicated to Lamae Bal, where Eldhraun would have to undergo a ritual in order to be turned finally - at least if their theory proved correct. The details of the ritual weren’t so certain even to Adusa, but she agreed with the others that it definitely was time to consult the keepers of this crypt finally. Eldhraun was as pale as Gwendis and Verandis already, and although she had apparently been the fair type even in life, the hue her skin had now, combined with the purple tint of her lips, made her look extraordinarily unhealthy.

They made their way through the city, and finally found the place Adusa had mentioned - more thanks to Eldhraun than to Manerion’s little map. It was nothing but a small tombstone-shaped marker carved into the rock, through which one could certainly find the entrance to the crypt the others had spoken about.

"Alright. Take care of yourself. I’d tell you not to die, but that might not be very helpful. At any rate, don’t do anything you don’t want to do, okay? I’ll wait here," Manerion said, placing his hands firmly on Eldhraun’s shoulders.

Eldhraun nodded, her eyes filled with worry. "What if it won’t work?"

"We’ll worry about that when it comes to it. Just ask them and explain your situation to them."

"Alright," Eldhraun replied, trying to look determined. "I’ll leave, then. I hope it won’t take too long."

With these words, she turned towards the entrance of the crypt and entered it, leaving Manerion alone in the meantime. He sighed, but then found a place in close proximity to the crypt where he could sit and read something while waiting for her.

It took close to an hour and a few staring passersby until Eldhraun re-emerged from the crypt. Manerion put his book away quickly and hurried towards her.

"How has it gone? Is it alright?" he asked, but the answer was quite obvious. Her pallor was still the same, but her grey-green eyes had changed to a crimson red. She pulled back her upper lip to reveal small, but noticeable fangs. Manerion was impressed. The change truly had been quick.

"I feel much better. Not to sound weird and cliché, but I... do feel so much stronger. As if no one could stand in my way. And... I’m not hungry right now, since they... they made me feed while I was there, but they told me I would need to feed regularly now. I’m a bit worried about that," Eldhraun explained.

"Well, you can definitely send frights down your victims’ spines with these eyes," Manerion said with a smile. "I’m glad you feel better now, even if it comes with a price. Let’s walk back now that it’s still dark, alright?"

They headed back to the wayshrine, and Eldhraun explained some more.

"I... I met the person you mentioned. The Nedic woman. I don’t know if it was truly her or... some illusion, but no, I think it truly was her. She made me vow to oppose both Molag Bal and Arkay. Apparently that’s a very unique thing to those who have her blood, not shared by most other vampires."

"Huh, interesting. I wonder what consequences that has. But the tale has been true all these years, it seems... that’s impressive," Manerion replied. "But you said they made you feed already?"

Eldhraun nodded, not without hesitation. "There were... worshippers of Mannimarco there. It all was so strange, almost more like a dream than reality... they made me sneak up to them and... drink as much as I could."

Manerion could barely hide his worries, but tried not to look at Eldhraun - she shouldn’t have to feel bad in a moment like this. "So you had to kill them?"

"Yes," Eldhraun whispered.

"Alright. Well..." Manerion wanted to say something in defence of her actions, but nothing felt quite sensible enough. "Was that the first time you had to kill someone?"

Eldhraun nodded without a word.

"You’ll be alright," Manerion just replied quietly. "It’s not a wondrous thing to do, I know. But you... you will be alright."

 

Once they had returned to the castle, they found that Adusa was the only one still awake. Before anyone could say anything at all, she rushed to Eldhraun and hugged her tightly.

"Adusa welcomes you _home_ ," she said with a relieved smile on her face. "This one is so happy that you are one of us now. Did it go well? Was it splendid?"

"It went well, yes," Eldhraun replied. Adusa had barely left her any air to breathe with her tight embrace, so she let go of her now. "There were no difficulties during the turning. I’m... a vampire now."

"Wonderful, wonderful. Let Adusa explain everything to you the best she can!"

With these words, Adusa led her away, leaving Manerion alone in the hall. With nothing else to do now, he decided to stay in Verandis’ study for now, continuing to work through the material they had assembled.

And it went on like that for a few days. Manerion was alone in the castle for most of the day now, since he, unlike the others, did try to get a few minutes of sunlight every day. He sometimes saw Gwendis, who left the castle a lot, but usually he only ever came across Adusa and Eldhraun to have a few words with them then and again. He barely ever saw Verandis again, which increased his worry that he might have done something wrong, so he decided to leave the castle more often and spent most of his days in the Mages Guild in Shornhelm, sometimes only returning late in the evening and exchanging a few words with the others before going to bed and lying awake there for hours on end. The endless rain of the last days didn’t make it any better.

Gwendis seemed to behave strangely as well since Manerion had fought against Reezal-Jul. She barely ever said hello when he saw her, often frowning at him before leaving the room. One morning, however, it was different.

It had been a little over a week since Reezal-Jul’s death. Manerion had had a sleepless night, and decided to get up early, finding Gwendis in the dark banquet hall as he lit some candelabra. By now, he wasn’t even shocked anymore whenever he lit a candle somewhere and found one of the vampiric inhabitants of the castle sitting right next to where he stood.

"Good morning, Gwendis," he said simply, fully expecting her to leave the room immediately. But she didn’t.

"Morning," she said. "Up early, are you?"

"I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been having a lot of... unpleasant dreams lately." Truth be told, he thought to himself, he hadn’t had pleasant dreams since killing Reezal-Jul. If they were even the slightest bit more horrifying, he’d worry that a certain Prince might have decided to make it her pastime to bother him.

"Hm. I know that problem," Gwendis said. "Y’know... there was something I wanted to ask you. Have you ever been in love?"

Manerion blinked. "You mean like...? Hm..."

He had to think about how to reply to this question properly, taking a moment before finally sitting down next to Gwendis, who was staring at nothing.

"You know... when I still lived in Summerset, before I even bought my little house and began selling herbs, there was this lady. She enjoyed getting up early to go down to the sea as the sun rose just as much as I did, and I loved the way that her hair would glisten just like the waves. I often invited her over for tea, and she always told me how much she enjoyed my blends. We could laugh about everything, you know? I don’t know if it was love... maybe it was merely infatuation after all," he reminisced. "One day, she went to Cyrodiil and stayed there for a long time to become a trader. We wrote each other letters first, wishing to catch up on how the other was doing, but with time we seemed to grow apart. I still valued her highly as a friend, and I still wished all the best for her, but I didn’t feel the same when I looked at her once she was back on Summerset Isle. She ended up marrying a wealthy, handsome mer from Alinor. I don’t know what became of them, but I remember I invited her over one day to talk about the old days, and she admitted that she had held romantic feelings for me, for a while. But we both agreed it was for the best that neither of us had acted on them." He sighed. Remembering Summerset Isle gave him a heartache. "After that... I don’t know. I came to care deeply for many people, love them, even, but not in a... romantic way, you know? And, right now, well..."

He suddenly had to think of Verandis’ smile - how kind it was, how gentle - but why did he have to think of him on such an occasion? He tried to ignore the thought. "Why are you asking?" he said then.

"Oh, you know... I was just wondering. I never had... someone, you know, but I thought maybe you knew how it... how it feels like," she replied hesitantly.

"I see," Manerion said, nodding slowly. "Well, if you think there is someone, then... you just need to listen to what your heart tells you, you know? Love can have many forms. Sometimes it’s... difficult to know what your heart yearns for. Sometimes you might think you love someone when what you’re really looking for is acceptance, appreciation, comfort. Things that not only a romantic partner can give to you, you know? Sometimes love is also that feeling you have when you invite the whole neighbourhood over for a dinner together, where everyone brings something with them if they can, and you stay up late, underneath the stars, enjoying each other’s company. But there’s these days, you know, where all you can think of is the softness of someone’s hair, or how much you enjoy talking to someone for hours on end, ceaselessly wondering what they might think of you but being too worried to ask them because rejection suddenly seems like the most terrifying thing in this dream." He smiled and shook his head. "It’s a quaint thing, truly. But it’s one of the... one of the most important things, I feel, regardless of which form it may take."

Gwendis seemed to think these things through.

"Did it help some?" Manerion asked after a long moment of silence.

Gwendis shrugged. "Yeah, I... think so. I was just... wondering, you know. Just wondering. Melina will say she’s in love every few months. Estelle has a family with a husband she loves. Adusa says she hasn’t been in love since she lost her partner of centuries. So I... I kept wondering."

"But you missed someone," Manerion said, his head feeling strangely warm. Something made him sick with worry quite suddenly.

"Verandis, yes," Gwendis said with softness in her voice. "I don’t know about him. He never told us if he had loved someone when he was still alive. He’s just... a great mystery, as always," she sighed. "I had heard that the daughter of Baron Montclair had fallen in love with him, but I don’t think he ever returned the feelings. For a while, I thought he might be fond of Melina, but it turned out he just spent a lot of time with her because she had such difficulties with her vampirism at the beginning. And then I thought he might like Kallin, since he travelled around with him so often and barely ever talked about it afterwards. But Kallin told me there was no such thing between them, and that he could barely keep a conversation with Verandis for long, and that even if there _was_ something, he wouldn’t like it, and..."

Gwendis seemed to care a great lot about this issue, Manerion realised. Something seemed to turn around in his stomach suddenly. He had thought that Verandis cared about Gwendis as if she were his daughter, but what if that wasn’t the case?

"...and now, he let _you_ do something like _wash his hair_. He’d never have let anyone do that," Gwendis concluded, interrupting Manerion’s thoughts suddenly.

"What?" Manerion just said in utter confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I just wonder if he might have grown fond of you," Gwendis replied, folding her arms and avoiding his gaze.

"No, no... I mean... no, I don’t think so. In the past week, he has barely even talked to me. It’s always just ‘good evening, Manerion,’ ‘sleep well, Manerion,’ when I’m lucky I get a ‘so how has your day been?’ and that is it already." He sighed. "I keep wondering why I seem to annoy him so, suddenly."

Gwendis didn’t seem to have an answer to that either.

"Maybe I should just leave for a few days. See how things are in Auridon or Reaper’s March, or go to visit Grahtwood again. Maybe he regrets having told me I can just stay here, and is just too polite to say it." He got up then. "Yes, I think that must be it. If he needed any more help, he would tell me, wouldn’t he? So I should just leave for... a week, or two, or a month, or... we’ll see. I’m worried about Eldhraun, but you and Adusa will take care of her, right?"

Gwendis frowned. "You should maybe tell him before you just leave, don’t you think? He worries about all of us when we’re gone for so long without saying anything first."

Manerion sighed. "Alright. I’ll tell him... I _might_ tell him. If he is a little more talkative, that is. If not, I can just... write a note or something."

"Alright. You do whatever you think is smartest," Gwendis said with a shrug. "So what are you up to now?"

"I’ll have breakfast, go and look if I can find any flowers to make this place less depressing, and then... I don’t know. I might pack lunch for myself and explore Rivenspire a little. I’m almost missing all the dark, haunted ruins I used to explore. Actually, no, I’m not. But we’ll see if I find something exciting to do."

"Sounds fun. I’ll be off to get some sleep, then," Gwendis said, standing up.

"Alright. Have a good night, then," Manerion said with a smile. "Or a good day, whichever you prefer."

Gwendis nodded and was off. With another sigh, Manerion went to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast.

 

After returning from a small walk around the castle with a few more flowers to put into a vase, he packed a few things for his little exploration trip through Rivenspire. He needed to find some more wayshrines to make travel through this part of High Rock a little easier, after all, so he decided to walk to Shornhelm this time, having found a terribly outdated map a few days ago according to which Shornhelm was actually much closer to Ravenwatch Castle than he had thought. Once he got away from the village of Crestshade, careful not to be hunted down by feral vampires, it actually wasn’t so bad anymore. Some of the trees were already changing their colours, and there were lovely shrubs growing besides the roads. A large part of the province was mountainous, with no paths on which you could get to the other side of the mountains, so he stayed on the roads. By early afternoon, he had reached the charming little village of Fell’s Run and had lunch there in the local inn. The people here were very friendly, so he was able to walk home in a good mood. He ended up being chased by some bloodfiends or wolves then and again on his way home, but once he returned to the castle grounds, he was happy having gathered some alchemical ingredients on the way.

He opened the doors of the castle, walking into the banquet hall without a worry, only to be greeted by Verandis hurrying towards him and clutching his shoulders suddenly.

"You’re not going to leave, are you? Please, you can’t leave just yet, I - please just stay for another while," he said with great worry.

"What? I... oh, did Gwendis tell you?" Manerion asked, only to find Gwendis sitting at the table behind Verandis, shrugging with a smile. "Well if... if you want me to stay for a while longer, I guess I can stay, I mean... I only thought I was bothering you, maybe. Certainly you need your quiet, and I... I thought I could go to visit Elden Root again sometime soon."

"Bother me! You could never!" Verandis replied with great determination. "I just... what is that?" He looked towards the top of Manerion’s head suddenly, letting go of him and reaching to pull a leaf out of Manerion’s hair. He laughed. "How long have you been walking around with a leaf in your hair?"

"Oh!" Manerion turned red. "I didn’t even notice that. Explains why I got some strange looks on the way home though."

Verandis still kept the leaf in his hands, smiling. "So you’re not going to leave just yet? We can go to Elden Root together if you would like to. There’s something I need to do before that, but afterwards, we can go there, if you like."

"That would be splendid," Manerion said with a smile, trying to hide his excitement. He hadn’t thought such a lucky surprise would come to him so quickly. "What do you need to do before that?"

Verandis sighed and began to pace the room. "Lorkrata. I took a look at the notes you had made from your readings, and it seems to turn up again and again, right? In the sources I looked at, there’s also references upon references to that place and its library. I fear we might have to go there and retrieve a certain tome. I feel it might be wise to take you with me when I go there."

The last sentence made him feel a little like a good-luck-charm, a thought which amused him. "Of course. When shall we leave? Today? Tomorrow? And what should I expect?"

Verandis made an uncertain hand gesture. "That’s the mystery, really. If no one else has made this connection - which I hope - then it will be nothing but an old abandoned Breton fortress. If the Montclairs have had the same idea - which I fear is the case - then they will have made preparations to keep me from going to this place, or removed the tome in question already. There’s no other option than to go there and find out, I’m afraid. We could leave tomorrow afternoon, if that is alright. Would you like to take another look at the material with me before that?"

Manerion nodded. "Sure. Just let me go upstairs quickly."

"No need to hurry at all," Verandis said with a kind smile.

After storing the herbs and roots he had collected during the day and changing into somewhat more comfortable clothing, Manerion joined Verandis in his study with a cup of tea. Verandis sat there at his desk, surrounded by fumes of incense. The room was filled with a sweet and heavy scent, and though the dim light was pleasant to the eyes, Manerion knew he wouldn’t be able to read much like this.

"Alright, here I am," Manerion said, sitting opposite to Verandis. "I have a question first, though. How is your wound?"

"My wound? Which wound?" Verandis asked, then seeming to realise what Manerion was talking about. "Oh, that wound! See, it healed so quickly suddenly that I already almost forgot about it. It didn’t hurt much anymore after you had put that salve on it, and some two days later it had vanished without a trace. Still slower than the pace at which my wounds usually heal, you know, but compared to how much it had hurt before..." Verandis shook his head. "Much better then."

"That’s a relief. I knew it helps quite well with the wounds of mortals, but I was uncertain in your case. Good to know that it did work."

"Definitely a success, yes," Verandis said with a nod. He then handed him a thin little book. "I don’t think I gave you that one yet, did I? It’s in Tamrielic, so something easy for once, but it still sums up a lot of the other material I had gathered."

Manerion skimmed through the pages. The book detailed the rise and fall of Lorkrata, a Breton fortress that had been built on top of an Ayleid ruin - which explained the name - after the fall of the Direnni.

"For once, the Ayleid part of the story isn’t going to be interesting for our matters. It’s the library of the fortress that’s interesting. Apparently, King Berthulic had quite an interest in the Ayleid magic in Rivenspire, even though he was not a mage himself. He let his mages collect as much material as they were able to, and I presume that many a tome that has been lost might still be found there in copies. The stories tell of one book in particular that is dedicated to the workings of the Remnant. If we were to find this tome... it would prove an invaluable advantage to us. Especially now, with Reezal-Jul dead. If the Montclairs have put a lot of effort into it, they have already located the tome and let Reezal-Jul help them with it. It’s in Ayleidoon, you see, and Reezal-Jul did have a knack for that, sadly. The rest of the Montclairs... not so much. And that is the advantage I’m hoping for. If they haven’t located the book yet - splendid. If they have, well, then they still might not have anyone to translate it. I’ve asked the Shornhelm Mages Guild to inform me if they are ever approached by anyone seeking insight on the Remnant, and besides, I know no one presently in this country whose Ayleidoon is as good as yours, Manerion," Verandis explained.

"Ah, you flatter me. But that is good to know - I do love the idea of the Montclairs trying to decipher an Ayleid tome that would be most important for their survival and ultimately failing because their knowledge of Ayleidoon grammar isn’t sufficient," Manerion laughed. "Well, then we should definitely get to this tomorrow."

Verandis nodded. "Apart from that, I’m quite out of options on what to do. We do need to turn our attention to the city of Northpoint eventually, which was the seat of power of the Montclairs before... all of this happened. The situation is calm there, at least according to my informants. I’d prefer to only move to Northpoint in case the situation gets out of control. I wouldn’t want any innocent citizens to be harmed because of this situation - enough have already been turned by Wylon Montclair and his subordinates. Finally, ah, I’d almost forgotten that - the Tear of Anurraame. I’ve been informed that they suppose it's still in the ruins of Erokii. I don’t have any plans of going after this artifact just yet, but I’m worried Montclair is. Then again, as you know, there’s a chance this artifact and the Remnant are one and the same. Definitely something we need to keep at the back of our heads."

"I see. It hasn’t showed up in my readings again, but from what the texts say, it can get a little uncomfortable if Montclair does get it," Manerion replied.

"Exactly. Let’s just hope he doesn’t," Verandis said. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I wish there were some more pleasant things to do. Not that I don’t enjoy reading all these age-old tales, but it makes me unhappy when I think of what we do this for."

"Me too. But, see... once the threat is gone, we will be able to rest with a few less worries, right?"

"I hope so, Manerion. I truly hope so."

Verandis smiled at him for a second too long, then looked back at his materials again. Manerion had to think of what Gwendis had said to him this morning. No, certainly there was no way this mer could see anything more than a friend in him, could there? They were just fellow researchers, trying to overcome a threat through their joint efforts, but surely there was nothing more. The idea of it was sweet to think of, Manerion had to admit to himself - maybe he could use the opportunity of going to Elden Root together to talk to him about something aside from Ayleid literature. Maybe he would be happy to get out of the castle sometime, look at the stars through the leaves, enjoy the sound of the waters in the cool evening air...

Manerion had to admit to himself that he had been watching Verandis flip through his notes for a few minutes now already, imagining the small, unlikely possibility that maybe, maybe, Verandis could truly grow fond of him. And by now, he also couldn’t quite ask himself the question of ‘why’ anymore - he knew why it gave him such joy, he knew why he felt his heart beat faster whenever he looked at this person he had only met so recently. This person he could’ve had distrusted from the day he met him; this fiend of the night, this blood-hungry monster, this _vampire_... but truly, none of that mattered much to him. What mattered to him was that he was a kind person, one who cared deeply both for his chosen family and the absolute strangers that most of the citizens of Rivenspire were to him. Someone with so much care in his heart was rare to find these days, and Manerion was glad that he had found such a person. In this moment, it didn’t even matter to him whether Verandis would think similarly of him or not - he had been able to spend so many quiet moments in this castle already, and they gave him such joy that asking for any more seemed so greedy.

"So you said you would go to Elden Root together with me?" he asked quietly.

Verandis looked up from the book he had gotten lost in. He smiled quite suddenly. "Of course. I’ve never been there, you know? I’ve visited parts of Valenwood, but I’d never seen Elden Root. They have the largest graht-oak of all of Tamriel there, don’t they?"

Manerion nodded. "The city is built into the tree, basically. The roots are as large as streets are here. I’m sure you’ll like it."

"I’m looking forward to it. I wish we didn’t have to go into another ruin first," he said with an honest smile.


	9. The Concealing Veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since my last update, although I've had this chapter ready for a few months already! But here it is, and I hope I will find some more time to continue uploading the chapters I've already written and writing some new ones in the next few weeks. :)
> 
> In the meantime, I have however been able to catch up on some quests, including some added by Summerset, and started doing dungeons then and again, so that I will be able to include the lore from there into the story as well. As always, enjoy!

Preparing to fight through a ruin was something Manerion had sadly gotten used to with time. Too many times had he stumbled into a place not knowing he would have to end up fighting someone, so it was much better to go and be prepared to kill if need arose. It wasn’t a fun pastime, certainly, but a necessary one. He hadn’t had to fight anyone in almost 270 years, and his first attempts at it were gruesomely bad, resulting in him getting to know his ability to just re-appear at a wayshrine whenever he should’ve died quite quickly. But he had gotten decent at it - decent enough not to worry about the strength of barely any enemy anymore. It wasn’t hubris, either, but it was a relief to know that he could walk out of a bandit-infested cave with a few scratches and little more.

He had stitched his robes, re-done the bandages around his arm, and prepared some tinctures in case the situation would turn uncomfortable. His wound was close to being fully healed, and by now, he could use his arm without any pain. He still hoped there would be no enemies in the ruins of Lorkrata, however unlikely it seemed.

They left the castle sometime before the sun went down. Manerion had almost wanted to use the wayshrine directly, only to realise then that Verandis, unlike him, still had a soul and thus couldn’t use these contraptions for travelling. It seemed strange, even to him - there had been wayshrines on Summerset Isle as well, but never once in his life would he have thought he would use them for something such as _travelling_ one day. Thanks to good old portal magic, used by the Mages Guild since its advent, they were still able to arrive in front of the ruins in a short time.

Most of the old fortress was still in a perfect shape, though it was obvious that it hadn’t been used in hundreds of years. There were small towers next to the main fortress, and the main wall had mostly collapsed.

"It’s said to be haunted, you know," Verandis said in an ominous tone as they went through the gates.

Manerion just shrugged. "If only you knew how many aimlessly wandering spirits I’ve met in the last year. Maybe we can have a nice chat with the ghosts, no? That’s usually the last thing people think of, for some reason, and has been proven to be the most helpful for me."

"Yes, who knows; maybe we’ll find the ghost of the fortress’s librarian," Verandis smiled.

They walked across the rubble of the fortress grounds, trying to find an entrance. Verandis had created a draft of what might be the layout of the fortress, based on the descriptions in the literature. According to it, they should find an entrance very close to the old library.

"There’s a trapdoor over there," Verandis finally said. "What a miracle that the wood hasn’t simply rotten away in the meantime. Let’s see..." He tried to open the trapdoor, but it wouldn’t move in the slightest. "Well. Seems locked." Not wanting to let this stop him, he touched the trapdoor, using magic that manifested as green swirls around his hand and the trapdoor. Manerion supposed it was a spell of alteration magic that would enable him to unlock doors, but as Verandis tried to open it again, he failed once more. He let out an annoyed laugh. "Well, I certainly haven’t come here to let myself be stopped by a _trapdoor_. Stand aside."

Manerion did as he was told. Verandis rolled back his sleeves, conjuring up a number of fiery shards of crystal out of pure magicka, and blasted them against the door. The shards simply disappeared into nothingness.

"A negation field," Manerion muttered. "That’s why the unlocking spell didn’t work. I have the feeling that these old Bretons might have been interested in Ayleid magic only in order to know how to combat it. Let’s see if we can find a key, maybe."

Verandis sighed. He seemed annoyed at the fact that magic would fail here. "Alright. Guess there’s little else to do."

They both faced a different direction, holding their hands at the height of their eyes in order to alter their vision. What was revealed to Manerion was a countless number of small metal objects in close proximity, but only a few of them looked key-shaped.

"I’ll go over there, and you could take the other direction. I’m not getting my hopes up that they truly left a key right next to the doorstep, but it’s worth a try - if we’re not successful, we can still try to get another way in," Manerion said.

With a nod, Verandis began his search, as did Manerion. Most of the objects were remains of weapons, jewellery, and even a lost little spoon. But in one of the towers, he finally found a key, hidden away safely inside a backpack besides other valuables. Maybe this had belonged to someone concerned with safe-keeping the key, who had then stored it away once they knew they might not survive the assault?

He returned to the trapdoor shortly before Verandis did.

"I have found this little key," he explained to him.

"Good. I wasn’t quite so successful. Let’s hope fortune is smiling on us today," Verandis said with a nod.

Manerion crouched down next to the trapdoor, attempting to unlock it, and finally: a little clicking sound signified that he had been successful.

"Unbelievable," Verandis said, shaking his head. "No magic could open that door, but a seemingly random key. Let’s go inside."

As soon as they entered the dark, cold fortress, they realised that something seemed off. In the distance, at the end of the hallway, a faint light shone, shaped almost like a scar.

"We’re not the first to have come here. Magic has been woven here... I can feel Lleraya’s deft touch on this place," Verandis said.

"Deft touch?" Manerion said, not being able to hide his confusion, bordering on annoyance. He recognised the name as that of Baron Montclair’s daughter, who he had seen in Verandis’ memories. "Verandis... I do need to ask you something."

"You do? What is it?"

Manerion had immediately regretted it, but there was no un-saying his words now. "You see... I’m wondering something, because I feel like it might have some impact on our efforts to fight the Montclairs. I have heard that Lleraya Montclair was... quite fond of you. Is this more of a personal matter for you?"

Verandis frowned at first, but then he just sighed. "I know what you’re trying to hint at, and no. She was a very promising mage, truly. Her magic was often subtle, yet effective. Many of the things she had learned and adapted were actually things I had taught her, I must admit in shame. I liked her, yes, and it was nice to teach her. But beyond that... no. I never saw her as any... any romantic interest, if that’s what you’re wondering."

"Good. I mean... you certainly are able to see my point - it could get even less nice for you if you had had any deeply personal relation, you see," Manerion explained, trying to avoid looking at Verandis.

Verandis looked at him in a somewhat sad way - maybe the memory had pained him? He shook his head finally, smiling with some hint of melancholy. "That is truly something _you_ needn’t worry about."

"Good, good. Then... then let’s go on, shall we? What’s this scar thing?" Manerion asked.

"Scar? What do you mean? The fissure in the ground over there?"

"No, no. That magic here," Manerion walked right up to it and pointed to it. "This thing. Seems like a... bit of a failed piece of magic to me. The result of overlapping shields, or such."

Verandis raised his brows. "I can’t see anything." He looked again, suddenly drawing in air sharply. "Of course. She knew _I_ was going to come here. She hasn’t been made aware that I also have non-vampiric people around me. She probably put a veil around this place, but we could... possibly use this magic you’re talking of to escape it."

Manerion shrugged. "Possibly? Let’s just see." He reached into the tear, and while his hand didn’t feel any different at all, it didn’t come out again on the other side. "Ah, funny. Come here, Verandis."

He extended his free hand to Verandis, who was very confused by that at first, but then took it into his own. Manerion couldn’t hide his excitement - how could Verandis’ hand be so warm? - and then walked right through the tear, taking Verandis with him.

Where they were now was actually exactly the same place, but stripped of its illusions. Only a few metres away from them, the ground of the fortress had fallen into itself - nothing overly dangerous, but if they hadn’t seen it, they could still have walked outside with a broken leg. In the distance, they could see movement in the shadows.

"Well, would you look at that. Let me guess, Verandis, there’s Montclair soldiers over there?" Manerion said, nodding over to the flickering shadows.

"Yes. Let’s get rid of them, they’re kind of ruining the atmosphere in here," Verandis said, taking his staff and quietly rushing into the shadows.

Manerion followed him, casting a shield around them before they could bathe the place in flames again. The Montclair soldiers were barely able to react before they had been reduced to ashes, too early for them to still hear Verandis’ scoffing laugh, his eyes truly glowing with malice.

"I have the feeling this is actually going to be more fun than I would’ve thought," he said, messily tying his hair into a bun as he watched the flames die down. "So should we go on? I’m going to assume this wasn’t the only measure of security Lleraya took."

Manerion tried to nod, but was quite distracted for a brief moment. Once he was able to finally look at something else aside from Verandis and his unusually sweet hairdo, he turned around to follow the hallway into the only accessible direction. They ran into some more of Montclair’s subordinates, until at some point, it got strangely quiet again. The reason for this was clear once Manerion found another tear in Lleraya Montclair’s veil of illusions. They stepped through it as well, only barely being able to stop themselves from walking right into an array of fire traps.

"I admit I’m disgusted. She’d have let me and my vampiric allies walk right into _fire_ traps. That is... cowardly," Verandis scoffed.

They could use the traps to their advantage, however. A few of Montclair’s soldiers were hiding out in the shadows and ran out of their dark little corners once Manerion drenched the walls of this hall of the fortress in flames. Obviously, the fiends ran right into the traps, making it even less of a difficulty to defeat them. Their eyes still glowed with anger even in their last moments. The next waves of enemies they encountered in the halls weren’t a problem for them either: turning and circling around their enemies, they enmeshed them in the destructive web they spun around them. Whenever they got too close to either of them, they were easily knocked out by a strike from their staves, twisting in their hands so quickly that not even vampiric senses could help to dodge them.

They made their way through the fortress quickly this way, the blood rushing in their ears whenever they hurried from one shadow to the other to catch their enemies by surprise. They finally came upon a powerful necromancer who wasn’t half as feral as most of the other Montclair spies and soldiers they had encountered in the fortress. The Storm Atronach that Manerion conjured did not catch this one by surprise, but it still made it more beautiful, in a way - the lightning strikes hit the necromancer’s servants in the same rhythm as Verandis and Manerion released pulses of flames through the room whenever they knocked onto the ground with their staves. There was a significance in this rhythm, as there was a significance in any manipulation of the sounds of the world, and Manerion had to smile as he realised that the necromancer couldn’t _understand_. While Verandis was occupied with fighting off the thralls of the necromancer, Manerion stepped back onto a higher surface. There was water running through this part of the fortress, so Manerion might as well use it.

He put his staff away, concentrating with his whole body and mind on the memory of water within the walls, spreading his arms to call these waters to him.

"Verandis! Come over sometime, will you?" he called out with a smile.

Verandis turned around, looking about confusedly, then realising what was about to happen and joining Manerion on the destroyed wall he was standing on. The necromancer still sent out more and more thralls, not realising the wave of water that had built up behind him, crashing down on him just seconds later as Manerion released it. The lightning of the Storm Atronach just did the rest, then.

" _Gods_ ," Verandis said, laughing breathlessly. "You didn’t just destroy him with _water_ , did you? That one thing that isn’t covered by the schools of magic?"

Manerion had to take a moment to admire the results of his own work. As intended, the water returned to where it remembered to have been again. "Ah, it’s nothing. Just a more logical conclusion of restoration magic than what people usually think of."

Verandis just shook his head. "Who even are you?" he said, still laughing.

Replying with a laugh, Manerion just shrugged. "I’m guessing we’re through with each of them. Let’s get to the library finally, shall we?"

They jumped down from the wall they had stood on, and Manerion found the final tear in the hallway behind where they had faced the necromancer. They went through it, finding themselves in front of a small chasm they would have to cross.

"Ah. I can actually help with that for once," Verandis said, turning over to Manerion to put his hands on Manerion’s shoulders and holding them tightly. Before Manerion could say any word of surprise, Verandis seemed to disintegrate in a cloud of black fog, moving through the air so quickly that Manerion barely even realised what had happened before he and Verandis stood on the other side of the chasm.

"I have some nice tricks up my sleeves as well, you know," Verandis smirked.

This time it was Manerion who had to laugh in surprise. "This is great! Can everyone of House Ravenwatch do this?"

"I truly don’t want to sound arrogant, but I am the one who’s most proficient when it comes to these little tricks. The others do know how to do it as well, though. But you need to act as if I had never said that, or else it won’t seem as special as water conjuring anymore," Verandis said with a smile.

"It’s still special, it’s _you_ after all," Manerion said more quickly than he could think this sentence through anymore. It didn’t make Verandis stop smiling, though - quite the contrary.

"Alright, we should finally have reached the library once we turn around this corner," Verandis said, and they went on.

Truly, Verandis’ draft of the fortress had been correct. The large room they found afterwards looked as if it must’ve been the library centuries ago. Though it had the typical mouldy smell of old fortresses to it, the books mostly seemed intact.

Manerion’s astonishment only grew as he carefully ran his fingers across the old spines of all these tomes. The knowledge contained in here would be invaluable - maybe the Mages Guild would have to send an expedition here once the threat of the Montclairs was in their way no longer. But Verandis was looking for something very specific, and it didn’t take him long to find it.

"Here it is," he said, opening the book he had looked for and skimming through its pages as quickly as he could.

Manerion could see the smile vanish from his eyes as Verandis read through the book. "What is it?" he asked finally.

Verandis took another moment before he responded. "It’s just that... I don’t know if I understand this at all. But if the notes this early translator made are correct, then... that means the Remnant cannot be within its full potential if it doesn’t have a vessel of sorts. You cannot use its beneficial powers without a vessel, and just as well, the destructive potential is not unlocked either until someone is the Remnant’s vessel, and yes, it does say ‘someone or something’ here. I think the case is clear on what Montclair is probably trying to do."

"Hm. Those news aren’t what I had hoped for."

"Me neither," Verandis said with a sigh. "But I need some more time to work on this. Ayleidoon isn’t quite my mother tongue after all."

"There’s always me to look over it, if you want," Manerion said with a shrug.

"Don’t dare think I won’t try to get you to do most of the work," Verandis said with a chuckle. "This is giving me a headache now already, and I’ve barely even looked at it for more than a few minutes."

 

They returned to the castle as soon as they managed to stop excitedly taking out every interesting book they could find and trying to read through it, which, naturally, took an eternity. Gwendis, Adusa, and Eldhraun were all welcoming them back, having waited for them to bring back good news. Verandis still stayed downstairs with them, but Manerion felt too tired to stay among people any longer. He talked to the others briefly, then got ready to go to bed even though the sun had only just set. This day had made him tired, and yet it felt as if it had gone by so quickly. But he was happy - happy that they didn’t have to spend more time in this ruin, happy that they had gotten what they had come for.

Just as he was braiding his hair, someone knocked at the door.

"Come in?" Manerion called, and it was Verandis who then opened the door wide enough to be able to look inside.

"Ah, you’re not asleep yet," he said and came into the room. "I’m... I’m sorry for disturbing you again. I just wanted to quickly thank you for helping me today."

"It was nothing. Really, I mean it - I’m more than happy to be able to have helped you," Manerion said with a smile, securing his braid with a ribbon.

"You say this with such ease. But I’m glad I’ll be able to repay you for this by travelling to Elden Root with you. What do you think - shall we go tomorrow? In two days?"

"Either is fine. I only worry about what Montclair might do in the meantime."

Verandis sighed - he obviously shared his concerns. "You’re right. But I do have good sources for all my knowledge on what the Montclairs are or are not doing. As soon as they make a move, we will be there. Until then... we might as well enjoy the autumn, might we not?"

"I think so, too. If you’re too worried that there will be an immediate reaction by the Montclairs, we can wait another day," Manerion suggested.

"That sounds like a good idea," Verandis agreed. "Then we won’t quite be caught by surprise. Right now, there’s little that would pain me more than for Rivenspire to be attacked by Montclair while I am away. But I shall not trouble you with that any longer today - we’ve been through quite enough already."

Manerion smiled. "Don’t worry about that, Verandis. It will all work out, eventually, I’m sure."

Verandis left the room again after they wished each other a good night, and Manerion stared at the door for a long while still, unable to do anything but smile.


	10. Falling Leaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some simple self-indulgent romance this time :)

The next day was quiet. Manerion wondered if it might be a little _too_ quiet, but maybe the Montclairs were truly caught by surprise at Lorkrata being wiped despite Lleraya’s illusion magic. They began to work on a translation for the Ayleid tome they had found, which proved difficult enough even for Manerion. But with time, they began to understand at least most of the main points of the content. So far, the destructive power of the Remnant seemed immense, and it seemed certain that Montclair would certainly choose himself to be the vessel for it. Combined with Montclair’s strange brand of vampirism, the possible results seemed horrifying.

On the morning of the day they had chosen for travelling to Elden Root, Manerion found Verandis still in his study, asleep in his chair and his notes still in front of him. As Manerion put a blanket around him, he wondered if Verandis always got so invested in his studies, or if this particular threat was simply trying to slowly eat him up. It seemed to be the latter, he had to admit to himself. If their current findings were to be believed, then even getting too close to the Remnant would result in being turned by it. And if Montclair were to use this power and expand it on all of Rivenspire... Manerion hoped that Montclair was still sane enough not to take that step.

Everyone in the castle seemed to be on edge, however. Gwendis got up sometime around noon, muttering something about how she had forgotten something, then returning to bed without actually having done anything. He found Adusa training in a room in the basement, saying that she needed to stay in shape in case anything out of the ordinary happens. Out of the ordinary... he wasn’t quite so sure what the ‘ordinary’ even was at this point. Nothing had ever been ‘ordinary’ to him since he had woken up in Coldharbour, and it certainly didn’t seem so now. A little over a year ago, he would never have thought he might end up living in a castle in the bleak region of Rivenspire, a castle that was owned by a count who, as a side-note, was a vampire.

But he tried to be a little less worried about the exact circumstances of his life currently - at least today. He thought about how much he would’ve enjoyed to prepare a nice afternoon tea for everyone, how lovely it certainly would be to enjoy some cookies or cake with everyone and just ignore the impending threat for a while. But it was good enough to sit in the banquet hall and enjoy the quiet while having lunch here, already excited about seeing the falling leaves in Elden Root.

Verandis got up sometime in the early afternoon, clearly confused by the fact that he had just fallen asleep in his chair - even to Manerion it had seemed such a _mortal_ thing to do. He was still occasionally rubbing his eyes when he joined Manerion in the banquet hall later.

"I still continued to decipher the tome until I was getting drowsy," he explained, sitting opposite to Manerion and sipping... _some_ red liquid from a glass, making him look less and less tired by the minute.

"And did you find out anything new?" Manerion asked.

Verandis shrugged with uncertainty. "Not much. The only thing I can say with much certainty is that we can disregard the Tower theory now. It’s quite obvious from the text that the Remnant stood in no relation to Anumaril’s staff, and might not even have been constructed by Anumaril himself. The word that often comes up is ‘growing’ in relation to that... but I have no idea how that could be meant. They couldn’t have grown the stone, could they?"

"Oh, they certainly could. But shall I explain that to you now, or shall we leave? It's a bit of a complex thing."

Verandis seemed uncertain for a moment, then just nodded profusely. "No, let us leave. No more talking about Montclair - I do want to see the sun set for once."

He got up and turned around. For a short while, he stood quite still, taking a deep breath, then turned back around again. Manerion hadn’t anticipated that little trick: quite suddenly, Verandis looked _alive_ again. His skin had changed to a healthy colour, his eyes had the warm colour of dark honey, shining in the flickering candlelight.

"It... it’s just an illusion, right?" Manerion finally managed to say.

Verandis nodded. "Nothing more. And I can’t keep it for very long, but it should be fine for today. Is it alright? Or do I still look... the way I usually do?"

"No, no, it’s perfect. It’s fine. N-nothing to worry about for you," Manerion stammered. Verandis looked wonderful either way, but those eyes were truly something else. No wonder he had trusted him immediately when he had seen him in the chapel of Shornhelm the first time.

"Good. Then we should be able to leave. I’m going to assume that we’re going to travel by portal?"

Manerion nodded. "I’ve already prepared something that should take us to the Mages Guild in Elden Root. Shall I activate it?"

"Of course," Verandis smiled. "Let us visit Valenwood, then."

 

Once activated, the simple portal spell allowed them to step right into the Elden Root Mages Guild. Manerion had already been to this place many times before, but Verandis looked about with a sort of childish curiosity. The light in here was dim and cozy, thanks to the wooden walls that formed this natural hall. People were studying here, chattering quietly, some reading and some experimenting with spells. Manerion nodded towards a few of the mages who had recognised him again as they walked past them, saying a few words of greeting occasionally whenever they approached them. Verandis was smiling the whole time as Manerion guided him outside.

"What is it?" Manerion asked curiously as they walked down to where vendors and crafters were located.

"It’s just... I can’t wait to see this from the outside. It’s incredible. They chose this to be the capital of the Aldmeri Dominion, right?"

Manerion nodded. "And it was a good choice, I believe. There’s no place quite like this anywhere in Tamriel."

They reached the ground level, the wayshrine in the centre shimmering in the blue light of its flame, then walking past the small pond situated here, with its bamboo stalks growing in the soft green lights the Bosmer had hung into the air. Outside, the air wasn’t quite as cold as it had been in Rivenspire, but some of the many trees had already begun to change their colours. Most of the plants were still thriving in the humid autumn air.

Manerion led Verandis to a place far enough from the Elden Tree to see at least most of it - seeing all of it would be impossible while still staying in the city - then asked him to turn around.

"This," he explained then, "is the great tree we were in just minutes ago. What do you think?"

Verandis couldn’t stop smiling, his eyes large as he looked up to the leaves of the tree, creating a dense roof through which the red evening sky could still be seen. A soft wind was blowing, some of the leaves were dancing mid-air as they found their way to the ground.

"It’s incredible. I’ve never seen such a large tree, not even in dreams, not even in my imagination," he said breathlessly. "How wonderful this magic is... to grow a tree of this size and beauty!"

Manerion smiled. He wanted to say something, but then decided it would be good enough to stay silent. He enjoyed this moment regardless, almost fearing that something might end up ruining it. For a moment, as he looked into this illusion that was the colour of Verandis’ eyes, he realised the fragility of all of this. In the end, his life in Shimmerene had been so fragile as well. He had gotten to enjoy it for many, many years, but after that... after that he had truly _realised_ what he had thought of so many times before, that all of this was nothing but a dream, and that it was easy to get lost in it without return.

"Let us walk around a bit. I want to breathe more of this air... it smells so nice here, does it not? Such quaint flowers surrounding the tree..." Verandis said, walking away.

Manerion walked beside him. They didn’t speak a word for a long time, minutes upon minutes, only quietly walking by the water.

"See, it’s been a long time since I did anything even remotely like this," Verandis said finally. "I still travel occasionally, but rarely ever purely for the enjoyment. Usually it’s... talking to distant family members, attending meetings with nobles who also happen to be vampires, acquiring information whenever there is something threatening our safety... but simply travelling somewhere, walking through a city without a worry... I haven’t done that in a very long time."

Manerion smiled. "I always tried to make time for such things. It’s not helpful to be stressed out of your mind every day. Whenever I had time... that is, whenever I had some task that could wait at least a day or two without creating considerable trouble, I always just explored wherever I was. You see... I know, this is going to sound ridiculous, very cliché regarding the Altmer of Summerset Isle in their ivory towers, but before all of this happened, I never saw any place beyond the island I lived on and the demi-planes I saw thanks to the Mages Guild. Certainly, I knew Summerset Isle quite well. I did explore even more dangerous places, although what I have seen then is no compare to the dangers I have faced since.

But aside from that... there’s so many places I still haven’t seen. I wish to see more of the Alik’r desert one day, or Vvardenfell. I wonder about the Hist trees of Blackmarsh, and the Khajiit of Elsweyr have made me curious about the far reaches of their lands as well. Or the snowy peaks in the Rift, in Skyrim, or one day, when everything is a little more safe, even Cyrodiil. But I have seen so much already, and I am so happy about it. I’ve learned so many things. There’s a great difference between reading about the food of a certain region in a book and actually tasting it when it was prepared by someone from that region. There’s a great difference between knowing every leaf, every blossom of your home, and finding even a single unknown plant in a region you are visiting for the first time. I’m not happy about the circumstances that have led me here. But I’m glad I took the time to enjoy things even when it all seemed bleak."

"Especially now, it’s good to have some enjoyable days as well," Verandis replied, returning the smile. "I have to admit that to you: I truly do not want to face Wylon Montclair, truly. I wish we could find a way to... make it undone. To pretend that Leila Montclair had never become sick, that Reezal-Jul had never told Wylon about the Remnant, that he had never tried to locate it. I... wish it was as easy as just snapping your fingers and - there! - everything is fine again."

"I know it doesn’t help much to say such things, but it is easier to wish for such things than to live with the consequences in case a foolish wish is made reality," Manerion said. "You are... probably right in that it would be the best if none of that had ever happened. But I think there... there might always be negative things involved in that, things that you hadn’t thought about when writing your wish on a piece of paper and sending it away with a paper lantern on the water." He had to think of how in the end, Manerion would likely never have met Verandis if Montclair had never been turned. He would probably never have been sent to Rivenspire.

"No, you’re right. I agree that there’s wishes that are better left unspoken. Not all of them are to be classified as such, though, don’t you think?" Verandis said, pausing to lean onto a railing.

Manerion did the same, looking out to the faint riffles on the water, a soft red in the evening sunlight. "You’re probably quite right," he said simply. He almost wanted to ask another ‘what kind of wish are you thinking about?’ but then grew hesitant and let it be.

The calm water was enough to distract him from noticing that Verandis was still looking at him expectantly.

"You know, if I didn’t know it, I’d think you were mortal, quite certainly," he said as he looked back to Verandis. It was a good thing he wore dark red robes today, unlike the usual black clothes he seemed to prefer. It barely made him distinguishable from the other travellers.

"But does it matter to you?" Verandis said, then looked back to the water, folding his hands in the very moment Manerion had noticed them to twitch ever so slightly. "I mean, does it make a difference? Do you prefer this illusion?"

"Prefer? What a quaint question," Manerion replied at first, uncertain what Verandis might mean by it. "Of course, you look, well... livelier like this, almost... curious for what is still to come. Less worried, most certainly. But you simply are not alive in our usual sense of the word, and that is how it is, no? And there is nothing wrong or... unpleasant about that. It’s simply who you are, and I see no flaw in the way you appear without this illusion."

He looked back to Verandis again, who had the hint of a smile on his face.

"So it doesn’t worry you? Unsettle you? It doesn’t fill you with... disgust? Disgust for what I am?" Verandis said, but the tone in his voice made Manerion feel that he knew the answer already.

"No. Of course not. Disgust is quite certainly the last thing I feel when I see you," he replied. Only after the words had been spoken did he realise how strange this might sound, how obvious it might be for Verandis what nature Manerion’s feelings had.

"That is a great relief," Verandis replied. then made a long pause. They looked at the water again, and the red glow on the water surface seemed to become more and more dim.

Only when it was almost gone did Verandis speak again. "There’s something I wish I could tell you - I wish I could tell you that you have a very kind soul, but after all, you don’t quite have a soul to begin with. But I know that you are being honest with me. You know, it’s just..." he shook his head. "Whenever people know or start to wonder if I might be what I am, they are either horrified by it and believe me to be some sort of abomination, or they begin to have this... quaint infatuation with what they believe me to be, rather than who I am. They fail to realise that we are not just tales, you know? But no, we are either the unholy blood-drinkers, always yearning to feed on an innocent citizen, or we are the melancholy seducers in the night, enthralling and charismatic, giving our Dark Gift away as if it were a dowry. And it’s... comforting that you seem to believe otherwise."

Verandis’ thankfulness was genuine. Manerion almost had to shake his head in disbelief at the sincerity in which he could be happy about such a trifle thing.

"Of course I try to see you as you are. Obviously I cannot quite fathom it, since everyone has depths in their mind that only they themselves could understand. But I think I would greatly miss out if I never bothered to truly get to know you." 

"It’s a relief, you know," Verandis sighed. "But I am one to complain, after all I have chosen this fate myself. I’m not like Gwendis, who was turned and then left for dead - she would have every reason to complain."

"She told me how thankful she still is for your help," Manerion replied. "You do seem to have made a great impression on her through that. And she’s right, not everyone would have done such a thing, not even every other vampire."

Verandis smiled. "She doesn’t always seem so thankful, you know," he said jokingly. "But I feel that taking her under my wing was the only thing I could have done. Should I just have left her, a young, frail, dying elf, not prepared for any of what was to follow? Of course not. Her transformation was a particularly difficult one, especially for herself of course. But see what became of her! She managed, with time. And now she is able to give that knowledge to Eldhraun just as well."

Manerion had to think of the conversation he had had with Gwendis. It had seemed that through all these years, Gwendis had begun to feel love for the one who had saved her. He wondered if Verandis knew - but obviously he couldn’t just ask him about it, in case Manerion was right about Gwendis’ feelings and Verandis knew nothing about it. If he were to find out due to carelessly chosen words, Gwendis would certainly not hesitate to show him just how good she was with a dagger. Manerion began to worry at the thought, but he _had_ to find out. If Verandis shared her romantic feelings, that would have some implications for Manerion as well, and if she didn’t, well... was it not better if she were to know? Or would it be best to leave all of this under the shroud of the unknown?

"You look worried," Verandis suddenly noticed. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, certainly. I, you know... uh..." he was trying to come up with the right words. "I just had to wonder, you know? I can imagine that throughout the centuries, such... circumstances make you feel quite close to one another, don’t they?"

"Definitely, definitely," Verandis said with a nod. "A very long time ago, I vowed to never have children, but after I first taught Gwendis how to feed, how to blend into the night, how to use her abilities for the best... after I had helped her to get some proper armour, and helped her to furnish her little room in Ravenwatch Castle and make it comfortable for her... after that, I knew I was going to care for her as if she were my own daughter. And now with Eldhraun around, I feel as if I might have to care for her in the same way - but you think of Eldhraun in a similar way, don’t you? After all, Eldhraun is even younger than Gwendis was back then."

Manerion had held his breath until Verandis had finally said the words ‘my own daughter’ and tried to hide his great relief now. "You’re right, I do feel quite the same about Eldhraun. Maybe it’s just one of those things that come with age, no? Suddenly you feel the urge to teach someone all the strange things you have learned in life - or undeath, that is."

"Yes, quite so," Verandis said, staring at the water with a strangely joyful smile. "I’m glad that we have each other in this time, you know..." His voice trailed off, and he turned around to look at Manerion directly. He wanted to say something, it seemed, he looked as if he were still trying to come up with the best way of wording it, only to be interrupted by a small Bosmer who suddenly stood right next to them.

Certainly they could’ve noticed the Bosmer before, but they were quite easy to miss when you were an Altmer, so Manerion didn’t even notice him until he began to speak. "Excuse me, aren’t you the friend of the Silvenar?"

"Me? Oh, well. I do consider him a friend, but why do you ask?" Manerion replied.

"Word that you’re in the city has found the ears of the Silvenar, who just so happens to be in the city today. He asked if you wouldn’t maybe like to meet with him," the Bosmer explained.

"Is that so!" Manerion said with a broad smile. "Of course! Where can we find him?"

"He’s in the throne room, waiting for King Camoran Aeradan to arrive. But until that, you can certainly speak to him," the Bosmer explained further.

"Well, then! Let’s not let him wait," Manerion replied, and the Bosmer nodded and disappeared again. Just as Manerion was about to leave, he noticed that Verandis was still standing there hesitantly.

"Do you think I should just wait here?" he asked. "After all, he only asked for you. Maybe he doesn’t even know you’re not here alone. And... I’m not certain, after all I am not part of the Dominion, you see..."

"Oh, don’t worry about that. It won’t be a problem if you come along. Besides, I even got to speak to High King Emeric without any harsh words on either side, despite having fought for Queen Ayrenn before. Don’t worry - Indaenir, the Silvenar, is a kind and wise person. If the guards have any problems with you being there, they can still throw you out," Manerion said with a smile. "Now, let’s go back to the tree."

Verandis still seemed uncertain, but then nodded and accompanied Manerion to the throne room.

It was largely empty today, aside from a few small scattered groups here and there. The guards seemed to have been informed of Manerion’s expected arrival here, hence they didn’t stop him once to ask what he or Verandis were doing here. They found the Silvenar quickly, standing around awkwardly in a small group of chattering Altmer. As soon as he saw Manerion, he smiled with relief, excused himself from the group, and went to join him and Verandis.

"It’s so good to see you, friend. I was happy when I heard that you are in the city as well, and I admittedly needed a break from these political talks," he said as Manerion and Verandis made a bow. "I see you’re not alone here? What brings the two of you here today?"

"We needed a bit of a break from political matters as well," Manerion replied with a smile, then gestured to Verandis. "This here is Count Verandis Ravenwatch. Ayrenn had asked me to help out in Rivenspire, and we’re investigating a... quite dangerous Ayleid artefact. But we can’t always spend our time with books and in ruins, so I decided to show one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen to him."

Indaenir nodded approvingly. "What good news to hear that you have found the time to visit Valenwood even among these difficulties. Count Ravenwatch, I’m glad to meet you as well."

Verandis bowed again. "Thank you, Silvenar. I’m happy to be allowed to be here."

"Of course," Indaenir said with a friendly smile. "You see, Manerion helped me in a very strange time, and I certainly wouldn’t stand here if he hadn’t had his role to sing in this song. I have great faith in him, and if he decides to show you this wonderful place, then I might as well trust you, too." He let out a sigh. "It’s definitely better than what these nobles are talking about. I wish the Green Lady had been able to accompany me here, but she is journeying to Elsweyr currently, so I had to accept the invitation of the king. She’s just so much better at all of this."

Manerion had to laugh. "I understand completely. I would certainly not want to be in your shoes right now."

"Me neither..." The Silvenar sighed again. "What are you planning to do today, still?"

"Oh, I don’t think we’ve decided yet. Take a bit of a walk around the city’s outskirts, maybe," Manerion said with a shrug.

"Sounds wonderful. But, please..." Indaenir lowered his voice and looked to Verandis. "If you get hungry suddenly, please... do leave the citizens in peace, yes?"

Verandis’ eyes widened in shock, and he looked back to Manerion, who shook his head to reassure him of the fact that no, his disguise hadn’t failed. "No, no... attacking peaceful civilians is something I have vowed to never do," he replied then, his voice a nervous whisper.

"Good. I wouldn’t have thought otherwise, you know, otherwise Manerion would never have brought you here," Indaenir replied with a smile, then seemed to notice something behind the two high elves’ backs. "Oh dear, the king has arrived. Wish me luck, and have a nice evening still. You will have to return sometime anyways, Manerion, to fetch your horse and your cat, right?" He smiled.

"Of course. Good luck," Manerion replied, and he and Verandis bowed again as the king walked past them without even noticing either of them. They quietly hurried out of the room before the king had even reached his throne.

Verandis paused right outside of the hall’s doors and leaned against the wall, deeply unsettled.

"How... how did he know? I still look mortal, don’t I?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, don’t worry about that!" Manerion said quickly to dispel his worries as soon as possible. "I don’t think anyone else was able to notice. It’s... maybe just because Indaenir has always had a strange way of seeing and understanding the world. You have never met him before, so let me try to explain... when I first met him, I was trying to find and rescue Akkhuz-ri, who was the Mane back then. Indaenir's way of finding out what had happened to Akkhuz-ri was asking torchbugs to direct me to skulls that I then had to speak to... not at all what anyone had thought to be an effective way of dealing with the situation. But his curious way of perceiving things helped us in the end. And when it came to cleansing the Heart of Valenwood from the corruption that had been brought unto it, he decided to draw this corruption into himself and die, but the Heart of Valenwood revived him and he was pronounced the Silvenar. What I'm trying to demonstrate by telling you this is that, you know, he has a quaint, very empathetic relationship to his people and the land, otherwise none of this would have happened. And... maybe that is what made him look right past the illusion. He’s too deeply connected to nature to be tricked by an illusion."

"I sure hope so," Verandis said, still uncertain. "I hope he will keep that to himself as well."

"I don’t see a reason why he shouldn’t do that," Manerion replied. "He didn’t seem as if he would ask the guards to throw you out of the city. If he had wanted that to happen, he would have done so while we were in the throne room."

Verandis just sighed. "It’s an important thing for me to keep the matters of House Ravenwatch private, you know? It wouldn’t be good if it all came out. I’m already far too worried about how the situation with the Tamriths played out... now that Gwendis is helping out Janeve Tamrith with her vampirism, it’s only a matter of time until all of Rivenspire knows. Not that it’s difficult to follow the clues once they have the idea, with the awful current state the castle is in... only a matter of time until they will know I had a role to play in Montclair’s turning."

"Verandis... please, don’t worry about such things right now. At least don’t worry about what Indaenir might or might not do with this information, because I truly feel that it does not matter so much to him. We will see about the Tamriths, and even if all of Rivenspire were to find out... even then, we’d find a way. After all, you’re doing your best to save Rivenspire! Neither Countess Tamrith nor Baron Dorell, not even High King Emeric are putting so much of their time into ending this threat, I think."

Verandis looked at him, then walked a few steps to look towards the dancing little lights that illuminated the small shops below them. "But what if it’s not enough?" he asked quietly, quiet enough that he probably didn’t even expect Manerion to hear it.

Manerion took a few steps towards him, then took one of Verandis’ hands into both of his own. "It will be. And regardless of how all of this will play out, I will always do everything in my power to help you."

For a moment, Verandis was silent, looking at him with a despair he had tried to hide. But his expression softened then, and he moved his free hand to touch Manerion’s. Still, he remained silent, and neither of them seemed to have the desire to speak. It was so quiet for a while, so calm. The chattering of the people downstairs, the noise of the workers finishing their day’s business, none of that seemed audible anymore. It was just quiet, peaceful, and at least for now, nothing stood between them. While he looked at Verandis, whose face showed a faint, but genuine gladness, Manerion wanted to tell him suddenly - tell him how happy it made him to be with him, how much he cared for him, how maybe this feeling could even be described as ‘love,’ and in that moment, it seemed to him almost as if Verandis had that same desire. But neither of them said anything, and the minutes went by.

"I’m sure the sun has set by now," Verandis said quietly, after another moment that had seemed like an eternity. "Shall we go outside?"

Manerion nodded, and they finally let go of each other’s hands. It hit him with cold sweat to realise that he had just spent several minutes doing nothing but holding Verandis’ hands and looking at him. To his great surprise, Verandis had seemed neither unhappy nor uncomfortable about it, though. How sweet had this moment been, and yet how surreal - surely Manerion had just imagined to see this great gentleness in Verandis’ eyes, or maybe it had been a part of his illusion. Certainly there could be no way that Verandis shared this feeling of his, could there?


	11. Sharing a Burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some concerned parents :D
> 
> I have quite a few ideas regarding Verandis' past and his family, and I'm at least starting to get into that a little in this chapter, though there will be a lot more on it later. None of that is confirmed, though, sadly.

They walked outside again, and since Verandis insisted that they find a spot from where they could see the stars, they had to walk for a while, breathing the warm air of the night. Finally, they found a place where they could see the stars without leaves hiding them from their sight, sitting down on the stairs to the Altmer embassy by the water. Masser and Secunda were not quite full yet, but shining brightly.

"So you said you travel via the stars, didn’t you?" Verandis said, looking up to the night sky. "What is it like? Is it like travelling through portals?"

"Oh..." Manerion looked up to the twinkling of the stars as well. "Not quite, no. Portals are like opening a door to get to another room, and travelling through the stars is taking a very, very far detour, just that it’s much quicker than travelling with a carriage or such." His voice was quiet, he didn’t want to disrupt the sounds of the night. "But I... I haven’t fully understood it yet, you know. It’s one of those things that I just learned to do one day after I returned to Nirn. I don’t know... I don’t understand how exactly it works. I thought I might be going to Aetherius for a brief period of time, then return to Nirn, but... how the map of the stars corresponds to that of Nirn, I don’t know."

Verandis smiled. "It’s fine not to know things sometimes, you know. It leaves some curiousity."

"I guess so, yes. I think it’s quite nice not to know everything," Manerion replied, returning the smile.

They returned to silence again, and Manerion watched the moonlight reflected on the water.

"What do you think... how does all of it work together?" he said finally. "Light, memory, time..." He stretched out his arm to the water, and though it was quite too far away still for him to be able to touch it, it was close enough to influence. He made the surface stir, and the movement was small enough to be barely noticeable, but fast enough to produce a strange and very faint buzzing and quivering sound. He then let it return to its usual state. "...and sound?"

Verandis let out a quiet laugh. "That is the most difficult question I have ever heard. I fear this is not one for me, but for Shalidor and Vanus Galerion, maybe, or the greatest of the Telvanni wizards, or the Psijics in their tower. But not for me, no."

"I still want to know what you think about it," Manerion insisted.

"Well, if that is so..." Verandis took a long moment to think about it, looking back at the stars again. "If we were to go back to the beginning of all of this - if there is a beginning, and if time is as we experience it - then we might find an answer. Maybe there was a sound, or a colour, or a light. Maybe those things can’t be separated from one another. But they are what continues to echo through... all of us. Ah, see, my wording was too poor already, how can a colour ‘echo’? Or maybe it can, maybe it does and most among us aren’t able to comprehend it." He laughed again. "I’m quite happy I never had to discuss these things with any of those arrogant mages I’ve met in my time, the kind who believes that as soon as their parents’ money have enabled them to hear a lecture by one of the great mages of our age, they can suddenly educate you on every aspect of your life."

"Ah, those sort of people." Manerion had to laugh as well. "I was so relieved to find that these people rarely get far. As soon as you have made some name for yourself, they suddenly become very, very quiet. In the best cases, that’s when they realise it might do some good to evaluate their own abilities more closely, and then they might realise that their potential does not lie in talking down on others."

"A rare case, though. It’s... ah, Manerion, I’m afraid I have to leave this place," Verandis said, suddenly quite anxious.

"What’s wrong?" Manerion asked, looking around and finally spotting two Altmer in the shadows. "Is it because of them?"

Verandis nodded. "They’ve been standing there for a while now, but once they started seeing us they began to whisper to each other. I don’t know if they recognised you, or maybe even me, or if it’s something else, but it’s making me nervous. As if it weren’t unusual enough to stand around in the shadows at nighttime."

"I understand. Do you want to return home?"

"Home?" Verandis seemed surprised. "No, certainly not! Night has only just fallen. Where else could we go?"

"Well... maybe we could to to Skywatch. It’s busy even at night. Certainly they wouldn’t even notice if someone with blood-red eyes and fangs walked around there, and most of them would probably be too drunk to call a guard at this time of the night." Manerion smiled and got up.

Another portal took them away from Grahtwood, on to the island of Auridon. They found themselves in the Mages Guilds’ hall in Skywatch, which luckily was empty enough at this time for the two of them to be able to get outside without interruptions.

Manerion loved Auridon the most in spring, but it was just as beautiful in autumn. While the air wasn’t as humid here as it was in Grahtwood, it certainly was very warm even during nighttime. Most trees were still green, but the leaves of some of them had turned to a lovely red shade. And as Manerion had remembered it from the last time he had been here, it was a busy city at nighttime. People were sitting outside, drinking ales and wines, enjoying the music of one of the overjoyed bards. It truly wasn’t difficult to just disappear here among everyone else. They began to walk through the streets leisurely.

"It’s nice here," Verandis said, taking a deep breath. "The air is so rich in fragrance even here. It’s just as I remember it - us Altmer do care so much for those superficial little pleasantries."

Manerion had to chuckle. "Definitely. Beauty truly is something to be created and nurtured, right?"

Verandis looked him over, raising his eyebrows before looking away again. "Well, you would know, after all," he said, but before Manerion could ask what he meant by that, he already decided to change the topic. "I did have a question earlier that I didn’t get around to ask. The Silvenar... he said something about... a cat?"

"Yes, my cat. Very soon after I returned from Coldharbour, I found a lovely little grey house cat. He’s truly a quaint little thing - he accompanied me throughout so many of my adventures, and I began to wonder if he’s... a real cat at all. I wouldn’t take a cat into an abandoned cave, you know? But this one just followed me around, absolutely unfazed by all the battles I fought. He seems naturally immune to damage, so I’d been wondering if there was any possibility my cat might have lost his soul as well when I did. A strange idea, I know," Manerion explained, noticing the confused look on Verandis’ face. "But it was bad enough that I took him with me throughout all these strange adventures in the Aldmeri Dominion’s territory, and I felt he needed a bit of a vacation, you know? So I asked Indaenir if he might be able to let someone take care of him. He’s in good hands, I know that. He’ll have some more time to just... play and sleep, as cats do, you know?"

Verandis shook his head with a laugh. "This is the strangest thing I’ve heard in a long while. But do introduce me to your cat some day, won’t you?"

"I certainly will."

"But there is another thing I would like to discuss with you. Maybe we could just sit down somewhere and... you can have something to drink, and I... won’t. Would that be alright?" Verandis asked.

"Of course. Let’s go find a nice place from where we can see the water, alright?" Manerion said, and together they went to look for a nice table to sit at.

Once they had found a pretty spot and Manerion had gotten himself a cup of lotus tea and a piece of honey and chestnut cake from one of the inns, Verandis began to explain his concerns.

"You know... it’s about Eldhraun. I’d prefer if you could spend some more time with her," he began.

"Well... sure. But what do you mean? I would spend a lot more time with her, but she’s usually only awake at night. I simply found that it’s most important for her to learn more about her vampirism at this point," Manerion said, trying to defend himself, then began eating his cake.

"I wholeheartedly agree, actually. And don’t misunderstand me, I’m not accusing you of not taking proper care of her, or any such things. But I do feel that right now, she could use your influence much rather than mine, Adusa’s, or Gwendis’." He sighed. "Adusa does a splendid job in teaching her how to use the blade. Gwendis... she’s been taking care of showing her how to feed. And she’s taking a very practical approach and often goes out of the castle with her to prey on some unsuspecting victim. And... Gwendis doesn’t always enjoy following our rules. I’m not saying they harmed innocent citizens, but I do feel that whoever their victims were, they took lives in the process. Which, as you know, is something I don’t enjoy doing, but especially not something a fledgling vampire should be encouraged to do. And finally, I have been trying to teach her our values, to teach her how to control her mind and her urges. She’s more diligent than most I have taught before. She certainly would be able to live without blood at prolonged periods of time already now, but I fear that she... simply doesn’t want to." He leaned back into his chair. "Certainly none of us are to be blamed for such a thing happening, but I feel that now that she knows that most of her family is dead, that her soul has been taken from her, it might not be wise to only teach her things related to blood and murder."

Manerion nodded slowly. "Hm. I see. It’s no surprise that she could easily fall into a deep dark pit under these circumstances. I know that House Ravenwatch is doing its best to give her the love she would have received from her family otherwise, but maybe we should truly try to get her back into the things she enjoyed in life. I know she loved caring for animals and playing the lute... I do hope she doesn’t forget about those things whenever she smells the scent of blood."

"There might be more behind that, even. I tried to get her to tell me about her family, but her descriptions do remain very superficial. I know that the family of Gwernydd had been a minor house of nobility a long time ago. And even though they had considerable wealth then, their power never had any meaning outside of Glenumbra. Still - they remain noble to this day, at least on paper. I don’t have to explain to you how no one would even know about the name today, except for very enthusiastic scholars of the history of Glenumbra’s nobility. But I do have the feeling that Eldhraun’s mother and aunt did cling to this claim, and that Eldhraun was raised in the belief that one day, she’ll return to this wealth," Verandis elaborated. "Of course, I’ll be happy to make her a part of House Ravenwatch, which does have some wealth I and my forebears accumulated, but... I fear she might desire wealth for the sake of it, and nothing more."

Manerion frowned. "But how come you think so?"

Before Verandis continued, he sighed yet again. "It’s... you know, she doesn’t quite have a proper room yet, you know? So she only has a small place in Gwendis’ room thus far, with a bed - I couldn’t convince her to sleep in a coffin - a small dresser, and not much else. And you know me well enough to know that I would never search through her belongings, right? Please do keep that in mind! But I know that she has things of... questionable origin. When I talked to Gwendis one time, I saw this beautiful little figurine on Eldhraun’s dresser. I didn’t think much of it then, thinking that maybe Gwendis had given it to her or such. But another time, I saw her quickly hide something in her dresser - some expensive garment, I think. Again - maybe someone gave it to her, maybe she somehow got enough money to buy it, and at any rate, there’s plenty of reasons to hide such things. But that happened again and again, and by now I think she might be stealing these things."

"Stealing!" Manerion said with worry. "That isn’t what I had hoped to hear."

Verandis made an uncertain gesture. "You know, the problem with us vampires is that even when people give things to us, when we don’t have to take them from others in secret, even then there’s a good chance it wasn’t done willingly. Many among us use spells of seduction to get others to do their bidding. I find it somehow appalling, but I can imagine Eldhraun is charming people to get them to do what she wants them to do. So, please... if you can think of any excuse to go somewhere with her, and maybe try to show her how far kindness and helpfulness can get her, maybe... maybe that would make her re-consider. I don’t want her to go to a... dark place."

Manerion nodded profusely. "I agree. I should try to find out what’s going on. Maybe there’s just some misunderstanding, but if there isn’t... I’m going to assume it’s easy to turn into a murderous fiend when you are still a young vampire, right?"

"Sadly, yes."

Manerion took a sip of his tea. "What a strange thing. I do wish none of this had befallen her, but then again... in a strange way, she does enjoy it." He had to think of the one question he had wanted to ask Verandis on that same day he had met him, but still, something kept him from doing it. "You had told me once that you had often regretted having been turned," he said instead, "but I wonder... was it your own choice?"

For a long while, Verandis just looked at him. There was no smile on his face. Then, after looking out to the distant sea, he finally began to talk again. "Yes. It was. It was a different time for me, you know. And if it helps, I wasn’t the first in my family to become a vampire. The house wasn’t founded by me, after all. But yes... it was entirely my own choice."

Maybe it was the slight frown on Verandis’ face, or the sudden coldness with which he looked out to the sea, but there was something that stopped Manerion from asking any further questions. He was curious, yes - he wanted to know who had turned him, what his reasons were, how his surroundings had reacted to it, but he didn’t. It felt wrong to ask.

"If you could get rid of your vampirism now... would you do so?" he asked then, hesitant to go any further.

"Would you want me to?" Verandis replied, looking him straight in the eye again. His words sounded sharp enough for Manerion to regret having asked to begin with. "Have you come to decide that I am, after all, only a speck of dirt in the light of Auriel? It hadn’t sounded so earlier."

In an unexpected way, these words hurt Manerion deeply. He had never quite considered what his own faithfulness to the Divines would mean for his friendship with Verandis. "Of course not," he just said softly. "I would rather embrace the night than forcibly take it from you. And if Auriel were not to accept the kind and gentle soul that you have, who would I be to accept Auriel?"

For a moment, Verandis seemed taken aback, then quickly looked out to the sea again and closed his eyes with a quiet laugh. "You do have this way of making people feel safe, don’t you?" He let out a sigh. "But... to answer your question, no... I don’t think I would want to become mortal again. Especially not now that I have found so many things to protect. And I also wouldn’t want you to forsake Auriel, with whom I have no quarrel. It’s... good that you have faith in the Divines, I think."

"It helped me a lot when I felt lost," Manerion replied. "And it made me realise that, if anything, I need to help other people to not feel so lost either."

"I think you’re doing the right thing, then," Verandis said, his eyes still fixed on the sea. "Using everything you have to help others... that is what Indaenir did, you said, didn’t you? When he knew that all of Valenwood was in danger, he sacrificed himself... what a noble, meaningful thing to do."

"It wasn’t easy to see him do that, trust me... I had found a friend in him, and when he told me he could absorb the corruption to save the Heart, I wanted to stop him, but he wouldn’t let me. But the forest... saved him. It knew of the goodness of his actions. It knew of the good he could do if only he continued to live," Manerion explained.

Verandis didn’t reply anymore then. He just stared at the sea, calm and collected, but Manerion had the feeling he was battling with himself in this moment.

"You like the sea, don’t you?" Manerion said after a long while. "Have you ever seen the Eltheric Ocean from Summerset Isle?"

Verandis shook his head. "I’ve not been to Summerset Isle so far. I’d been born and raised in Rivenspire, and on my many travels, I didn’t get to see Summerset Isle yet. But... one day, maybe, I hope I will be able to see the sunrise on the Eltheric Ocean." He looked at Manerion again, and while the coldness in his eyes had vanished again, he looked strangely broken, strangely hopeless. "What is it like?"

There was a great warmth in Manerion’s chest, stirred by Verandis’ simple question. "It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever been able to see. I used to get up early just to see it. It’s... like myriads of tiny flames dancing on an ocean that could drown them, but doesn’t. But I love to see it at night as well, I’ve found. It looks... so large, as if it could swallow everything. So... imposingly horrifying. But it still remains calm, anchored to itself."

Verandis smiled. "I know. That’s the world at night. That’s it for me: anchored to itself. Calm, oblivious of whatever might disturb it."

"Good to hide in as well, I’d guess?" Manerion said, taking the last sip of his tea.

"Not so good if you’re scared. Good if you’re the one scaring them, though," Verandis said with a smirk. "Another thing that makes fledgling vampires so arrogant: the look on people’s faces when you walk out of the shadows, your eyes hungry, your demeanour making it obvious that _you’re_ not the one who is scared, but that you know that _they_ are."

He rested his elbow on the table, taking a short look around, then, with a small movement of his hand, removed his illusion for just a moment, his eyes faintly glowing with menace, then, with another, made it return, smiling with the innocence of a young mortal with no bad intention whatsoever.

"Oh, you’re going to scare me if you continue like that," Manerion said with a laugh. Verandis’ little demonstration had been good enough to make him shiver despite the warm air.

Verandis laughed as well. There truly would have been no way of knowing that he was not among the living for someone who only saw him laugh like this.

 

They continued to talk for a long while like this, and the hours went by without them noticing it. It was only shortly before dawn that they returned to Ravenwatch Castle, where it was much colder, and the sun surely wouldn’t brighten the place for at least another hour. When they entered the banquet hall again, they quickly realised that the others were still awake as well, chatting and laughing.

"Oh, Verandis! What a pleasure to see you again!" said a woman who stood in the banquet hall, looking as if she had just told some story to Adusa, Gwendis, and Eldhraun. Her hair had a similar colour to that of Verandis - dark enough to assume that it was black in a certain light, but most certainly brown in the soft candlelight of Ravenwatch Castle - and she seemed to be a vampire as well. The midnight blue dress she wore had an intricate pattern and expensive lace at the collar and the ends of her sleeves, and her elaborate hairdo also seemed to imply that she took much care of her appearance. She rushed over to Verandis, hugging him and giving him cheek kisses left and right - one of those Breton customs Manerion would certainly never quite understand - then looked over to Manerion.

"And I assume you are the person the others told me about, the one who’s helping Verandis so splendidly? Ah, in that case, come here -" she said, walking over to him, hugging and cheek-kissing him just as well while Manerion was only able to stand there, mortified. A cloud of heavy perfume had taken his breath away, and he tried to suppress his urge to cough.

"I - uh, y-yes, what a pleasure to meet you, I... guess?" he just responded with a nervous smile. He wouldn’t have expected such a reaction from an absolute stranger.

"I’m most pleased to meet you as well. I’m Melina Cassel, but certainly you know about me already, don’t you?" she replied with a sweet voice.

"The name has been mentioned, yes," Manerion replied simply.

"Wonderful. See, I was just talking to the others about the journeys I made in the last weeks... but I admit, I truly had to return here sooner or later after hearing of the troubles Baron Montclair is making. But so far you have been quite well, I’ve heard. And we’ve had precious young Eldhraun join us, what a pleasure!"

Eldhraun was smiling shyly as Melina walked over to her to run her hand through her hair.

"Now, will you join us as well, or will you return to Summerset Isle when Montclair is finally defeated?" she then asked Manerion.

Manerion blinked. "Joi... join you? Oh, you mean, as in...? No, no, I don’t plan on become a part of House Ravenwatch, at least - at least not in the sense you mean, probably. I’m quite fine with not having to drink blood," he said with a nervous smile.

"Oh, pity. But I’m glad we’re having such an interesting group of people here now. Certainly it won’t stop being interesting this way, right?" she said with a chuckle.

"Certainly not. I’m quite happy we’re all here in the castle, and safe, at least for now. Any news while I was away?" Verandis asked finally.

"Nothing, no. We’re watching Northpoint closely, but so far, it all seems safe," Gwendis replied with a shrug. "It won’t take long until that’s over, I’m sure. But we don’t know when they’ll finally strike."

"...but until then, we should have some fun, shouldn’t we? The winter is approaching fast, don’t we have nice things to do as well?" Melina asked with a pout.

"So you think ridding Northpoint of Montclair’s influence once and for all won’t be fun?" Verandis said with a smirk. "I wish I could be there to see their faces once they know not even a single city can be theirs, much less all of Rivenspire. But we should patiently wait until that."

"So what have you done in the meantime, Verandis?" Melina asked, finally sitting down next to the others, and Verandis and Manerion did the same. "It was unexpected to hear that you were not in the castle upon my arrival, much less when I found out it was not for some political reason or such. _You_ didn’t let yourself be stopped from doing nice things, did you?"

"Oh, well, Manerion had been so kind and showed me the cities of Elden Root and Skywatch," Verandis explained simply.

"And...?" Melina asked, probably waiting for a much more detailed explanation. "You shared the pleasantries of a quiet night together, with a glass of wine, by the seaside...?"

Manerion was glad that Melina was looking at Verandis when she said that, so that she couldn’t see him turn deep red upon her remark.

"No, Melina, you know I don’t drink wine!" Verandis replied, and even he seemed strangely flustered.

"Yes, and I never understood why. Just because we don’t get any nutrition from the food and drink of mortals doesn’t mean we can’t taste them once in a while, no?" Melina replied, shaking her head. "But that’s the only complaint you have? So the rest is true?"

"If you don’t stop being so nosy, I’ll have to stop supporting your research finally," Verandis said, not quite able to hide a smile. "We just walked around the cities for a while, talking about... well, whatever came to mind - nothing unusual, why are you so interested in it?"

Melina chuckled. "Oh, why are _you_ getting so defensive? A simple ‘no’ would’ve been enough, but you don’t like lying, I know. You’re much too noble for lying, right?"

Even Adusa was chuckling by now, and Eldhraun seemed quite happy with her new acquaintance just as well. Only Gwendis seemed strangely unhappy, but when Manerion noticed it, looking at her with worry, she only glanced at him briefly, then looked away and got up.

"I think I’ll go get some sleep finally," she just said and walked off.

"Oh, good night, darling!" Melina still said, but Gwendis was already gone by then. "Oh, how quaint. She had seemed strange the whole evening. Might I have done something to upset her?"

"No..." Manerion said quietly. He only noticed that he had said it aloud when everyone turned to look at him expectantly. "I mean... no, I don’t think it was your fault, I think it was mine." He sighed. "I should get some hours of rest as well. I hope we can talk some more later today."

He got up and nodded at the others, but they seemed to be too confused by the sudden shift in the atmosphere to reply much. Only Verandis got up, seemingly wanting to follow him first, then just standing there awkwardly.

"Good night, and I hope you won’t have any bad dreams," he said quietly, then sat down again.

The situation had suddenly become so strange that Manerion wanted nothing more than to leave it as quickly as possible. The others wished him a good night as well, then he finally left the room for the upper floor.

Only once he lay in bed was he finally able to think clearly again. He was worried about Gwendis - quite obviously she loved Verandis, and after all, she had known him for so much longer than Manerion had, but now he, this strange new intruder, seemed to stand in her way. And Verandis _did_ love her, so much was obvious, but he had made it clear that she was like a daughter to him. Was it wrong, then, when Manerion pursued his own feelings, knowing fully well it might hurt Gwendis in the process? Should he approach her, apologise, and explain to her that her feelings were unrequited? But how to do so without sounding like an arrogant prick with no regard for her feelings whatsoever?

Quite honestly, he found, it would have to be Verandis’ task to explain it to her, and that would likely not happen unless he told him about Gwendis’ feelings to begin with. What a quaint situation - but certainly one that could be solved after a few hours of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it thus far! If you did, feel free to let me know either here or on [Tumblr](vinterskald.tumblr.com). If you'd like to actually meet my vestiges on PC/NA, feel free to add me there @vinterskald :)
> 
> Also, I hope it wasn't overly noticeable, but you might have realised that English is not my native language. So if you notice any horrible mistakes or notice that I'm using an idiom in a weird way, please do give me a heads-up!


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